SUBTERFUGE
by innovare
Summary: Agent Gibbs is tasked to help investigate a case riddled with hidden clues. Instead, he finds more than one subterfuge and is pulled into a game of cat and mouse.
1. Shell Game

**Copyright** **: existing characters belong to CBS and the creators of the NCIS Franchise. Story written for fan fiction.**

 **Autho** **r: lezaanv**

 **Summary : ****Agent Gibbs is tasked to help investigate a case riddled with hidden clues. Instead, he finds more than one subterfuge and is pulled into a game of cat and mouse.**

 **Characters:** **Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Leon Vance, Tim McGee, Ducky Mallard, Abby Sciuto, Ellie Bishop**

 **Please be advised** **: story has not been beta'd. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. They are unfortunately mine.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1** **:** **SUBTERFUGE**

Major Tori Hatcher stood before the window overlooking the Navy Yard, coffee in hand as she gazed at the river in the distance. Every now and then, she would sneak a peek at the Gunny, searing to memory his posture and stoic behavior. His back was rigid, while he sat on the edge of the seat and examined the case file she'd brought along. Moreover, between those glances she would observe his appearance, summarizing the little tells for when they actually spoke to one another.

Over the years, she'd taught herself that details, albeit small, aided her in conversing in a way respectful to the other person. There was no stepping on toes or provoking unnecessary anger. Although when essential, she would know exactly what buttons to push. Even so, the role of peacemaker was first the road most traveled by. In particular with a veteran like Special Agent Gibbs.

The Major quirked her lips.

For a former Marine, his silver hair now covered the shaved parts, wore a comfortable formal ensemble and shiny black shoes. It appeared as if he cared about etiquette and made sure he was fighting fit. Almost like a restored antique pickup truck, still in need of daily TLC. She smirked at the thought; it wasn't a comment she would use in public or to him for that matter.

Her amber eyes drifted to the scenery once more, knowing he knew she was inspecting him. He was a sniper after all. His chair creaked, followed by the sound of glasses bouncing off the wooden surface. She felt his icy blue eyes stare at the back of her head long before he broke the silence.

"No Navy or Marine connection." Agent Gibbs stated more than queried.

Tori tilted her body so, gesturing with the coffee cup at the file across from him, then went back about gazing at the view. She heard him grab his reading glasses.

"Page four." She specified.

Despite her lack of eye contact, Gibbs nodded in accord and turned to said page.

"NCIS Special Agent Miguel Montenegro. Agent afloat before he transferred to Yuma eight years ago. Then three years later relocated to Newport, Rhode Island."

He snapped it shut and glanced at her.

"Wrong building, Major." Tori ignored the rejection, took a sip of the lukewarm coffee, and shuddered at the aftertaste. Turned towards him with eyes locked on the swirling contents. "This is."

"Uh-huh." He agreed with a slight sneer tweaking at his lips.

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

She set the cup down and approached, making sure her eyes stayed on her destination and grabbed for a chair. He scrutinized with as much interest as possible, whilst hiding the vital fact that he detested the interruption. She looked at the window and smiled as she recalled a memorable moment.

"As a kid, I loved tagging along with my parents when they went to yard sales. It's strange I know, but there was this old man who entertained the neighborhood kids with a shell game. Like curious monkeys, they tried their best to find the ball hidden beneath, but they never did. He was just so . . . _crafty_. Fooled heaps out of their spare change."

"Not you." He interrupted with a lopsided smile, also noticed the sincerity in her appearance.

Chuckling, she gazed at him. "At first, the intrigue was thrilling until the older kids called him a fraud. That's when I decided to keep my distance and watch, intently, how he conned them out of their pocket money."

She leaned her elbows on the table's surface, amber eyes focused on his aging expression. His gaze showed no signs of waver, only the hint that he read her micro expressions with the same intensity.

"The cups he used were a dainty white, and the ball a murky green. You'd think it would be easy to catch on." She chuckled at the silliness. "Then one day from my perch, I saw the ball roll along until I noticed his sleight of hand. So subtle, yet so elegant, but man I nearly exclaimed eureka at the revelation. Poor kids, they were so focused on tracking the cup and its occupant, they missed the exchange."

"Gotta point?" Gibbs queried exasperated, hoping he didn't have another Ducky on his hands. It was out of respect that he had entertained the Major for this long. He couldn't help her; NCIS couldn't help with this case.

A willful smile curled her lips. "Oh, there's a point."

He canted his head, glaring.

"Humor me?"

He waved a curt go-ahead, and she positioned the folders alongside each other.

"To the eye, there's no difference. Same color, same print and so forth, but when you open them . . ." She did so with both. ". . . there's a clear variance."

Gibbs scowled, wondering why she even bothered stating the obvious if his expression portrayed annoyance. Why hadn't he sent McGee or Bishop to tell her off? Now he was stuck in school with someone twenty years younger. The Major marked his restraint slip away and quickly supplied.

"The trick if I may."

She slid Montenegro's file below that of the other one, then pointed between them.

"Page six for the contractor. Page eight for the Special Agent."

His eyes lingered on her as she leaned back in the chair, evidently pleased with herself. After that, they narrowed to slits before he paged to their respective places. He read Nigel Alexander's page first, then went on to the Agent's page. Both supplied information of their high school days. What academy they attended afterwards.

"Well, I'll be dammed." He gazed at her over the rims of the spectacles. "They're one in the same."

She raised an eyebrow, delighted sneer still evident on her lips. "Yes and no."

His jaw tightened and replied in a curt manner. "I don't believe in . . ."

"Coincidences, I know. Me either."

He smiled at that, enough to show his appreciation. She retrieved two photos from her knapsack, placed each one where they belonged and gestured at them.

"Two faces, one man."

"Or one man and his accomplice." He corrected.

Tori shook her head. "Like in the story, it's subterfuge, Agent Gibbs. It's my job to find out where the sleight of hand took place."

Uninterested, he watched how she retrieved a piece of paper and slid it over to his hand resting on the table's surface. His eyes lifted towards her, while he rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. In tandem, they stared at one another until laughter rattled his chest. Tori's lips quirked into a shrewd smile. He shook his head before he reacted to the familiar inscription.

"He's calling in a favour?" She nodded with a deadpan countenance.

His laughing died away, expression serious as he drilled her with a glare. "Rule 36: If it feels like you're being played, you probably are."

With that, he vacated his seat in haste, the Major barely fast enough to stand at attention. The door slammed shut and then she was alone. Her military posture slouched somewhat. Relief spilling through her muscles as she breathed a sigh. She'd survived the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs, yes, however, would Director Vance stay the course? "That went well, Tori, really well."

* * *

" _Colonel Mann said if I ever needed the eye of a skilled investigator, you wouldn't mind helping a friend of a friend."_

Jethro Gibbs barged through the door of the Director's office. Eyes locked with that of Vance's smug expression, he headed for the briefing table. Set the case files down and gestured at the door.

"I just listened to a rookie justify a gut feeling with a _gambling_ game she saw twenty odd years ago. Only to find out, you'd already sanctioned a joint investigation." He approached Vance's desk, glare subtle and unnerving. "The answer's no."

"I wouldn't cast the Major's account aside if I were you, Gibbs. It has merit."

The Special Agent sighed and stared at the ceiling, reining in his frustration. Vance's smile grew a notch enjoying the reaction and awaited the next harsh statement.

"I don't trust her."

"And yet you're cut from the same cloth." The Director voiced. "You'll find you have more in common than what you observed in a short while."

"Do we now?" Gibbs' eyebrow raised with the brusque question. "Special Agent in U.S. Army Counterintelligence doesn't mean she's a good investigator. Ambitious yes, but overreaching and far fetched assumptions don't make a case. Solid, good leads do. She took a shot in the dark hoping it would find a target."

"And these quick allegations are based upon what? Experience? She's not a child."

"Never said she was."

"Fair enough. How about I ask you that you trust me, Gibbs. The Major's methods may come across as strange . . ."

Jethro motioned over at the case files. "Alexander's squeaky clean. A civilian contracted by the military to supply building materials overseas. Except their shared education, there's no further correlation between them. Agent Montenegro's a . . ." _A man with two faces. It's a trick, Agent Gibbs_. Tori's mellow voice commented in his mind.

He lowered his hand, gaze distant as he looked to the floor. _It's either drugs or weapons he's trafficking._

Leon discerned the change and stood to his feet. "I've seen that look before, Gibbs. You've found the sleight of hand, haven't you?"

The Special Agent set out for the table, grabbing a hold of Montenegro's file upon arrival. Paged through to the desired location.

Silence settled in while he skimmed through the information.

"Agent afloat from 2001, he was tasked to our Europe-Africa branch before he asked for a transfer to Arizona in '09. He spent three years in the middle of nowhere, then moved on to Newport Naval Station. Five years and counting."

"Yes, that's correct." Vance raised an eyebrow. "Care to share?" Gibbs turned his attention back to the Director and smirked wryly. "Okay, my team will take the lead on the investigation. And since she's so good at it, she can . . . _observe_."

Vance squared his jaw as he gazed at the older gentleman. "No. No team, just you and the Major."

"You have a hobby I don't know about?" Gibbs joked and concluded as an afterthought. "Always work as a team."

Vance smirked at the Rule, afterward the smile faded whilst he declared in a serious tone. "In this instance, mentoring is an additive for me. Besides, I see no wrong in helping an Army CI investigator. We could use a little mutual cooperation every so often."

"I don't have time for this, Leon." He rejected in a grunt. "Assign someone else."

"I won't fight you on this one . . ."

"Good, then it's settled. Nice chat." Gibbs strode for the door.

"Your transport leaves in three hours, I expect you to be on it."

The Special Agent glared over his shoulder. Vance smiled in a smug manner.

"Marine Corps Air Station's expecting you. So is the NCIS office. Have a safe flight."

The Special Agent approached and glanced at the window behind him, before gazing at the man he'd come to respect over the years. He had enticed him, again. _Dammit_.

"Why?"

"I know Major Hatcher. I've watched her grow over the years, she shows promise. With a little guidance, any Agency will be happy to have her."

"And you feel obliged to give her this _encouragement_ and are using me to do so. Did I miss something?"

Vance schooled a neutral expression. "Your track record speaks for itself."

"Uh huh, why do I feel slighted and honoured then?" Jethro turned his back on him and walked away. "You owe me, Leon." He grabbed the door's handle. "Big time."

Vance nodded, pleased with the Agent's submission. "Somehow I don't feel flattered, but considering the aftermath, it will be well worth it."

"If I don't shoot her first." He retorted as he swung the door open and concluded in a wry tone of voice. "Adios Amigos."


	2. Outfielder

**Chapter 2** **:** **OUTFIELDER**

 **YUMA, ARIZONA: NEXT DAY**

"Anything you like to add?" Gibbs asked of the Major.

She dipped her chin and looked at the soldier standing at ease before her. She mulled over the question, wondering whether it was consequential or not. Swallowed back the nervous knot in her throat.

"I know this is a beamer, Sergeant."

The men schooled bewildered expressions, but the soldier nodded and replied with a slight snicker. " _Okay_ , Ma'am."

She ignored the taunt and carried on. "If you could describe Agent Montenegro's character in short, what would you say?"

"Uh, generally a nice guy. Dedicated. Sometimes missed curfew, but other than that . . . yeah, like I said, a nice guy."

Tori nodded her consent and scribbled down the details. "Much appreciated, Sergeant." Next, she looked up at Gibbs, noticing he gazed at the pen in her left hand. "I'm done."

A wry smile twisted his lips as he dismissed the man. "We'll be in touch, Sergeant Rothman."

"Certainly, Sir." He stood to attention and saluted. Afterward, observed with a curious gaze as they walked for their rental in the parking area.

Meanwhile, Jethro Gibbs side glanced at his temporary partner. Who fared well to keep her eyes focused on the cars in the distance. At present, she portrayed a person he could not study. He failed to see what went through her mind, or what she hid from him since they'd met. It made her an accomplished liar or a reserved individual. None of those two options aided him in deciding if he could trust her or not. Or perhaps her thinking process coupled with intent focus, closed off the outside world. Right now, the investigation had become her realm, everything else was immaterial.

 _Does it make her dangerous and unpredictable or an effective investigator?_

"Beamer?" He asked as they entered the parking structure.

"Cricket lingo." Tori replied without looking at him.

"And I'm required to know what that signifies?"

"Didn't think you were intrigued."

"Major."

Gibbs stopped at the driver's side; his glare drilling with resolve as she tugged at the door. It didn't budge, and she stifled a mock laugh at the deed.

 _Annoying and deliberate at the same time. Great._ She looked at him and conceded.

"In the game of Cricket, beamer is a ball that doesn't bounce and surpasses the batsman at or about head height. It's unexpected and by accident, but at times it's used on purpose to shake the batsman's confidence and attention."

The car unlocked, Gibbs opening the door with a mocking grin. "No shaking, Major. Only made a fool of yourself."

"I got what I wanted." She protested upset. "For Sergeant Rothman to have remembered someone he'd seen five years ago. Miguel made an impression."

"Roommates typically do." He smirked and said as an afterthought. "And it's a beanball in baseball."

Both slid into the car, one amused and the other irritated. The engine burst to life and they headed for the boom a few meters away.

"We'll go for lunch, then head back to the office."

"You've been to Arizona before, a month or so before Miguel transferred to Yuma."

An image of a stunned DiNozzo and sauntering horse flitted at the mention. He couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. _"He's going . . . He's going. Uh-oh. . . Oh no. Sheriff, I think he lost a contact."_

He felt her eyes lingering on him. The amusement faded. "You've done your homework."

"And you haven't?"

An unnerving stillness settled between them. Tori gazed at the wilderness passing by, waiting on the Special Agent to speak his mind.

"Since junior year, you attended a private school, aced your grades all the way to graduation. Had a promising future ahead of you, until you decided to join the Marine Corps. Like in high school, you were a model student and soldier. Always followed the rules. When necessary, you ratted out your fellow Marines who disrespected the Corps' values. Single-minded, perseverant, and faithful, nonetheless, you found it hard to admit your mistakes. Your rise in rank was honourable and achieved with . . ."

"I get it. I get it." She cut him short. "You've read my file."

He grinned. _Guess I hit a nerve. Got your attention too._

"Satisfied you'd served your country to the best of your ability, you set your sights on Army CI. Gained as much expertise as possible. That is, in the areas that assisted investigators in the field. When finally six months ago you applied for the actual profession. Despite your accomplishments and relevant qualifications, your decision was based upon persuasion and insecurity. Intimidated by the profession, I suppose. Since providing support suited you just as well."

"Wow, that's the most I've heard you speak since Washington." She quipped wryly.

"That was merely a summary. Only so much a file can give."

"The rest is." She hesitated, uncertain if she could interpret his statement accurately, then voiced it regardless. "Information on paper is two-dimensional. Once you connect with the individual in person, his or her personality, character, behaviour, etc. becomes third dimensional. Information turns factual. Lies and truths are clear as day."

"Uh-huh, that's why concrete leads, facts, details are important in our line of work. It throws out personal feelings and confirms accurate deductions."

Tori nodded in accord, signaling that she understood and gazed at the road before them. Fifteen minutes later, they entered a Subway Restaurant. Enjoyed a self-made sandwich, and sat in comfortable silence. Each one preoccupied with their thoughts, 'till she reached for her knapsack and retrieved a folder.

Gibbs regarded the four sheets as she placed them side by side. Realised they were calendars from 2009 through to 2012. He had to admit it sparked interest and pondered what she'd discovered that was urgent enough to share. Especially after she'd done a great deal of hiding it.

"What's this?" He queried with a raised eyebrow.

"A time span of the days he was absent from work." Tori replied.

The table wasn't the monitor in the bullpen, but he had to applaud her ingenuity. He nodded. "Go on."

"The red blocks represent sick days. Yellow personal leave, and the green active cases that occurred around those times."

His eyes squinted at the aforementioned. "Sick leave occurred every second month. Two days each time."

Her forefinger reached for the closest yellow block. "Whereas personal leave was requested on alternating months. And it was always one to two days before or after a weekend."

"And never in the middle of an active case."

"Dates were picked at random on every occasion. Only the months stayed consistent. Altogether, it amounts to three months that he was unaccounted for."

"Enough so not to draw attention."

Tori dipped her chin in accord. "Additionally, there's no record of him been taken up in hospital. No urgent medical care or doctor's appointments. If he did see one, it was in secret."

"Injuries on the job?" She shook her head. "In that case he's one heck of a Special Agent."

Tori chuckled. He managed a slight grin before adding. "Cautious too, which is not unusual for federal agents. We're trained to be careful. You don't know who might be watching."

Gibbs stared at her as she sat back and noted the annoyance slinking across her face. He almost felt sorry for her. However for her type of personality, a certain sternness was required. Plus, praise merely fueled the need to please. He wouldn't provide it, not now.

"I'm not done yet." She urged. "There's more."

"By all means . . ." He waved curtly. "Enlighten me."

"According to Agent Anise Owens, she'd got a glimpse of him with a secondary phone. A burner ostensibly. She didn't think it strange at the time, since it's common for agents to keep their profession a secret from friends and family. Particularly if said folks disapproved of said occupation."

 _Impressive._ He thought. _Despite that, the Agent could be lying_.

"Don't believe what you're told, double check."

"I did. Several of his co-workers confirmed the same thing."

"Okay, if he did use a second phone, he'd gone through several during the years here." He rubbed at his chin, pondered for a brief while. "It's thin, but it's something worth considering."

"Furthermore . . ." She smiled in a smug manner, knowing she'd gained his attention. "He never arrived late to a crime scene, or during. Always the last to leave, always the first one in; never showed up hung-over. Spoke only when spoken to, never picked a fight, and respected the badge. When the team went out celebrating, he would have one drink, chat to a few women, but always left alone. Besides his absent roommate, he had no friends outside of work and no girlfriend. All-in-all, he was a . . ."

"An ordinary Agent." He finished deadpan.

"I was gonna say a generally nice guy. But that works as well."

"When did you?" Gibbs pointed at the calendars.

"During the flight over."

"And the . . ."

"This morning, while you had a meeting with the Lead Agent and Police Chief."

Gibbs rubbed at his bottom lip, mentally paging through the information supplied, whereas Tori placed her smartphone on the table. He saw her scowl at the device, eyes displaying clear hesitation. It seemed his silent scrutiny had made its mark. Because she was contemplating whether she should come clean or not.

"Speak, Major." He demanded in a gruff tone. "Apparently something's weighing on your mind."

Her gaze snapped up, and like a loyal soldier conveyed the restricted info.

"Ah, before I came to you in D.C., I had arranged with headquarters to track all outgoing and incoming communications between this Army Base and Newport. Whereas Director Vance arranged for MTAC to do the same for this NCIS field office and NCIS Rhode Island. The Yuma police's a part of the surveillance, too. If there's news, they'll send it to my phone immediately."

"My," He laughed at the tactic. ". . . have the two of you been busy. I suppose he's the one who told you I expect anticipation from my Agents."

She shrugged, somewhat sheepish. "Yeah and . . . he may have mentioned the Rules on the side."

 _Why does this feel oddly familiar, Leon?_

"Rule 16." His blue eyes danced with dislike, his face showing signs of indifference.

"Uh." She stuttered, taken aback by the callous tone in his voice. "I-I-if someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it."

A shrewd grin tugged at the corner of his lips. _Well done, he's taught you well, but you're in my turf, Major. He can't defend you any longer._

"You . . ." He jabbed a finger at her. ". . . will follow my orders and only my orders, nothing more, nothing less. You work for me now."

"Isn't it with you?" The words had slipped through her lips before she could put a stop to it. Staggered, she extended a hand to cover her mouth.

Gibbs ignored the retort and stood to his feet. "Grab your gear and let's go. Day's not over yet."

Tori scurried from her side of the cubicle. Slung the bag over her shoulder, and jogged after his retreating figure. Outside, her smartphone squawked. She fumbled it out of her pants' pocket and viewed the message.

"Ah, Agent Gibbs!" She called after him.

He stopped on the sidewalk at their vehicle, exasperated, then glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

"Someone from inside this NCIS just contacted Agent Montenegro."

She stared at him as if he knew who it was. He flung his hands up. "Do I have to wring it out of you, Major?"

 _No, but you can be a little nicer you know._ She thought to herself.

"It's Special Agent Casey Derringer."

Tori glimpsed the impressed sneer line his lips and felt chuffed with the outcome. Besides, the leads had only peaked this moment, she still needed to weather his peculiar method of training. In particular how he'd pegged her personality so quickly. She needed to stave it off best she could and focus on what came naturally to her. Observe and deflect his intimidating tactic. Survive. Prove herself a worthy investigator. Protect her true identity.

 _I'm a Major, Gunny, I fought for the rank just like I will fight for this. I sure as hell won't allow you stifle my career._


	3. Backdoor Slider

**Chapter 3** **:** **BACKDOOR SLIDER**

Agent Gibbs stood before the interrogation room gazing at the impending Major. Her attire reminded him of Agent Quinn, except for the ankle boots that mimicked that of the military. Although left handed, her firearm rested in the small of her back, its grip positioned for her right hand.

" _I golf left-handed, but throw and bat right-handed."_

A flash of a beaming Kate Todd came to mind. But he instantly blinked the memory away and concentrated on the evaluation of the Major. She had tied up her jet-black hair in a pony and used her sunglasses to keep the irritating strands at bay. Good, it showed she wasn't anxious for him to study those guarded expressions which flitted often. Moreover, no matter how hard she tried, a soldier remained a soldier. He could see it in her fight-foot-nine athletic build. In the way she showed respect to those surrounding her. But like an irritating insect, something still bothered him.

Tori halted a few feet away, posture professional as she awaited her instructions. Gibbs gave her a wayward smile. She remained straight-faced though, conveying she wasn't intimidated by his casual behaviour. His lips pursed, jaw tightened, eyes narrowed. Afterward, he extended his hand towards the knob whilst the other raised to motion at the door.

"You know the Rule." She nodded. "Quiet, invisible and observant, you watch him and you listen to me. And if you so much as think of interrupting the interrogation, I'll throw you out. Are we clear, Major?"

"Yes. Sir." She emphasized the Sir with a subtle authority.

The Agent disregarded it and opened the door. Headed directly for the chair opposing the man in question, and towed it towards the observation window. Tori filed in, closed the door, and walked for the corner. Leaned against the wall and watched with interest.

"You know what's about to happen, Agent Derringer." Gibbs began as he took a seat, crossed his legs at the knees, and folded his hands on his lap. "Avoid the drama and let's cut to the chase."

The dark skinned man stared at the table, rubbed moist palms up and down his thighs. He thought long and hard, eyes moving between the table and his hands. The silence sent a shiver down his spine, made his heart pound in his ears. Ten years of serving his country and look where it got him. In an interrogation room with a man fifteen years his senior. Trapped with someone who would devour him for breakfast.

"C'mon, do the right thing, Casey." Gibbs urged in a pleasant tone of voice.

"He's a skilled investigator and friend. I thought a heads up would be nice." Derringer lifted his gaze and winced at the Special Agent, noting he schooled a cold stare. "He would've done the same thing for me."

Gibbs looked up the Major. "Funny, we heard he had no friends."

She ignored the jab by directing her gaze at Casey. She retained the recurring impassive look on her face, as if she was filtering through forecasted info in her mind. He focused his attention back on Derringer.

"You know how it is. With our profession, a personal life's hard to maintain."

"Yeah, I do." Gibbs agreed as he leaned forward and levelled his gaze with the man. "But this isn't Washington or Virginia or San Diego." He paused, positioning his elbows on his knees. "Or Rhode Island."

Casey flinched at the last name. "We may be a small field office, yes. But crimes ain't limited to cities, to chief States or to larger branches of NCIS. We value this town, and we do what it takes to keep it safe. Miguel appreciated it. He honours our devotion to the Agency."

"This caused you to disobey a directive from your superior?"

"He's a good man."

"So you supported him. Fair enough. Lucky he's got you to watch his back."

Gibbs stood from his chair, lugged it back to the table, and plopped it down in reverse. Casey leaned back as the Agent shifted his leg over and sat down, smiled wryly.

"See, what you did was obstruct our investigation. People get arrested for that."

"Hey, I did the right thing." Derringer replied upset.

"It's _my_ job to protect." Gibbs hissed in return. ". . . Our job to prove his innocence. All you did was hinder our process, my process of conducting an investigation."

The statement hung in the air for a moment before Casey's eyes moved to the left. Gibbs sensed the Major approach from behind and regarded how she dropped a photo on the table. She gestured at Nigel Alexander's face.

"Do you know who this is?"

Dissatisfied, Gibbs' eyes followed her arm until they came to a standstill on her face. The look of disapproval furrowed his brow, as if it said if she did it again, he would break her finger. She winced at the thought and backed away.

"Is this a joke?" A chuckle echoed in the room. Gibbs shifted his stern gaze back on the Agent. The amused smile fell, jaw squared as he swallowed the knot in his throat.

"Answer the question." He hissed.

"That's Miguel Montenegro, Agent Gibbs."

Intrigued by the new development, the Special Agent glanced over his shoulder. Beckoned for the other photo. Tori stepped forward, placed it beside the previous one, and returned to her corner.

Gibbs slid it over to Derringer. "That's Agent Montenegro." He fingered Alexander's one. ". . . a civilian."

"I don't know where you got your information from Agent Gibbs." Casey grabbed the photo and rotated it towards his interrogator. "But this is the man I worked with. I have no idea who the other one is."

A notepad slammed down on the table, Derringer jerking with the action as he gazed at it, stunned.

"Names, places, everything related to the Agent, I want it. Now!"

* * *

 **SIXTY MINUTES LATER**

Like a gushing torrent, a cloud of dust sped over the car as it came to an abrupt stop. Gibbs got out, eyes scouring the terrain through sunglasses. Tori followed suit, and set her gaze on the cabin plunged in the middle of the wilderness scene.

"All we're missing is the remnants of a good ol' western town." She declared with a comical countenance.

The older man disregarded it. Afterward focused his attention on the dilapidated building off to their left. He headed in its direction without bothering to invite her along, but she followed him anyway.

"To the east it is." Tori whispered in a sarcastic fashion.

He overheard it though and glanced over his shoulder. She shrugged, signaling her silence with a gesture over her mouth. Their footfalls echoed in procession, the wind sweeping the dust away as they went along.

His shoes thudded as he mounted the wooden stairs. Paused before the door. Seized his Colt 1911; let it dangle at his side. Next, he reached for the knob, pushed the door open with the gun raised as he entered.

Outside, the Major halted, canted her head as she heard a SUV crawl to a stop in the distance. She sprinted for the car, leaving behind an ignorant partner to search the cabin alone. Upon arrival, she slid beneath its boot. Rolled unto her belly, finding cover behind its wheel and trained her USP.45 at the side of the cabin.

A few seconds later, two assailants hunched over, slid down the knoll located at the back of the building. The lead gunman gestured at the second to stay, ducked down, and hurried for the porch. Composed, she trailed him with her gun, even as she kept an eye on the straggler, breathed in deep, and waited.

Inside, Gibbs emerged from the single bedroom exasperated that she was still outdoors, when soft thuds echoed on the porch. He reacted, pistol poised, but a single gunshot resonated in the valley. Afterward, the assailant collapsed with head first against the door frame and groaned his last breath. Guarded, he moved ahead, eyes darting from left to right whilst peering through the windows. The atmosphere tensed, his gut cautioning him the dirtbag wasn't alone. That his backup waited for him to move from cover, lunge at him from the shadows. Furthermore, the lone shot had come from the vehicle's direction. Which meant Tori were out there, covering his six from a distance.

A tumbleweed snapped outside and he swung right. A pistol appeared in the frame of the window. His assailant's rage plain as day, when like a sack rocks, he fell to his knees and keeled over. Gibbs heaved a sigh, sensing the shiver run down his spine, felt the slight tremble in his muscles. Staring down the barrel of a gun had never alleviated with the years, especially if he knew what followed afterward. Additionally, not once did he make it a habit of exhibiting what it triggered within his emotions. Even so, today, today it would be different.

His gaze settled on the Major as she emerged from beneath the chassis of the car. She got to her feet, and then she was jogging for his location, dust diminishing from her attire. Chest burning with rage, he channeled it in to a low growl and walked for the door.

"Tori!" He called out in a controlled and collected manner.

On cue, she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, pleased smile plastered on her face.

"What the hell just happened?" Gibbs thundered down at her.

"I saved you." She stated in a huff. "You're welcome by the way."

"You were meant to cover my six while I searched the cabin."

"I'm confused, didn't I just do that?" She challenged with a mocking tone.

Gibbs reached for the bridge of his nose, fighting hard not to react in full rage. "You seriously need to reconsider your priorities, Major."

"I thought I . . ." Wood creaked to the left and both aimed in its direction.

"Don't . . ." He protested, but she'd fired off a round aimed at the assailant's head. ". . . shoot him." He concluded as the man tumbled over the wooden railing and landed in the dirt.

"He just clipped my sleeve, and you're yelling at me not to shoot him." Tori lashed out, bemused by the declaration.

Gibbs stifled a gasp, a tad shocked that he'd missed the assault rifle firing off a bullet. For the negligence, he definitely needed a head slap.

"You killed off a viable lead." He managed in his regular harsh tone.

"And he was about to execute a lead investigator. Take your pickings, Agent Gibbs."

Holstering his weapon, he stared down at her with eyes like shooting daggers. He wondered how someone who'd devoted her life to the military, ended up here before him defiant and stubborn like a mull. Then again, her foresight had prevented a surprise attack. Had protected him, and had used his outburst to draw out the last gunman.

' _The Major's methods may seem strange, but with a little training, any Agency will be happy to have her.'_

 _Damn you, Leon! Still pestering me from afar._

He gestured down at the body laying at his feet and snarled. "Analyse."

Tori holstered her USP and pulled out gloves from her jacket pocket. Without a sound, she climbed the stairs, gaze scrutinizing the man's features as she knelt beside him. Gibbs retreated through the door and observed from the interior of the cabin.

"Looks like Tom, Dick, and Harry are from the Middle East and judging by his build . . ." She lifted the hem of his shirt, then released it. "And scars, they're mercenaries. He's clean-shaven; recently. Aftershave's still . . . _repulsive_ , clothes clean and hair neatly trimmed."

"And?"

She gazed up at him before she stood to her feet. "They've been here for a while. Could be they followed us from Yuma or perhaps from a neighboring town."

"Yeah, my bet as well."

 _Someone might've tipped them off._ Tori surmised as she gestured at the living room. "Anything inside?"

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. "Empty. No signs of recent activity." He heard her leap from the porch, and set his sight on her again. "Stash house maybe." He bounded down the stairs, eyes trailing her as she knelt beside the third body. "They knew the terrain. Explains the ambush."

Nodding, she walked around to the second gunman. Afterward returned to where Gibbs regarded the assailant on the porch. She gestured to him.

"Dick there has a XM8 assault rifle. Harry over there keeps a M9 Berretta and Tom. Well, be glad his Heckler and Koch rifle was on single-shot mode. Otherwise, my jacket would've had a lot more holes in it. Lucky, it's a sweet jacket."

"Importance?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It's snug, hugs the body like a soft grizzly bear."

Gibbs stared at the sky, shook his head. "About the weapons." He sighed.

Tori rectified. "Oh. They're custom to Special Forces and Black Ops soldiers' arsenals. _United States_ soldiers."

"So, not only is our Agent Montenegro a fraud, but a weapon's trafficker."

"And he's using two identities to smuggle said weapons to mercenaries abroad. And to those already living in our country."

He gathered a deep breath and narrowed his eyes, thinking over his next options. "Okay." Sighed once more. "I'll coordinate with the local LEO's to process the scene." He motioned at the shed skirting the knoll to the right of the cabin. "While you go ahead and check out the next goal."


	4. Powerplay

**Chapter 4** **:** **POWERPLAY**

The filthy threadbare tarp crashed to the ground in a powder-filled exhale. Revealing something polished and pristine in its wake. Tori trailed a gloved hand over its surface while she completed a three-sixty-degree walkabout.

"2009 Chev Silverado . . . 1500 blue model. A V8 engine, four-wheel drive pickup truck with spacious interior and makes for a very comfortable ride. It's unusual for Montenegro's description though; pegged him for a sedan kinda guy."

"You know your vehicles."

"Uh, pickup's mainly." She gazed at him where he stood at its flatbed. "There are no limitations to where you can go in a truck, especially if you're the rugged type."

"Amen to that."

" _Wait_ ; don't want to miss this moment." She mocked an honored gesture, searing the moment to memory. " _The_ Agent Gibbs has something in common with little ol' me. Wow, that's a shocker."

She revealed one eye, marking the amusement on his face. It made him look a few years younger. A camera came at her and she opened her eyes to snatch it.

"Get back to work." He ordered, the smirk still lining his lips.

"Absolutely, boss."

Flashes of white followed next as she documented the vehicle image for image, then came to a standstill at its rear. Captured its number plate and peered at the flat canopy.

"Do you think he used the truck for his side-line business?"

He turned to face her. "Ya think?"

"A bit too much I'm afraid."

"Or do you know?"

"Maybe."

"Assume."

"Plates don't match what we have on file."

"Then you know." He went back about searching through the crooked locker.

"For Montenegro or Alexander."

"Okay."

"Another identity?"

"Possible."

"These curt bursts of conversation give me so much joy." She quipped to herself.

"What?" Gibbs turned around, annoyed, and moved toward the hood of the truck.

"Nothing, there's nothing here, except for this beaut."

"Don't' presume."

Tori chuckled shaking her head at the contrast. "Which is it now? Assume, don't assume. I thought that's what investigating is all about."

"You misread the fine print." He came about. "And the tone in my voice."

Tori stepped back as Gibbs unclipped the flap of the flatbed, lifted the top to the side, and thrust his finger at it. His one eyebrow indicated she was to take a photo. She nodded and snapped a few from different angles.

"It's clean, I don't know what you're hoping to find."

"To the naked eye, yes, but forensics will confirm our previous conjectures. Whether he'd utilized it for hauling weapons. Or not."

"Uh-huh, and if he has a third identity."

He motioned at the truck's cab. "And where he went for the duration."

"I'm not so sure he would've left the GPS behind for someone to find. He's been at it for a quite a while to leave something that would steer us directly to him."

Gibbs dropped the canopy whilst glaring in her direction. "Are you in the habit of dismissing directives when it doesn't accommodate you?"

"Only if I know what the outcome will be."

"That makes for dangerous suppositions, Major. That's why a crime scene's searched, captured, logged and sketched. Any evidence, however minor contributes to the endgame. Your assumptions are filling holes with air, not shavings and wood glue."

"Woodworker?"

"It's carpentry." He declared under his breath, then vacated the shed. "Get it done; before the local cops get here."

"Yes, Sir." Tori mocked. Then stilled as he peeked around the doorframe, ice blue eyes narrowed in aggravation.

" _Don't_. Sir me, Major. Do your job."

He walked away without further debate, straight for the cabin. Grabbed for his cellphone and called the police department for an estimated time of arrival. Ostensibly, they would reach their destination within the next fifteen minutes.

He gazed at the three bodies.

Team Gibbs would have provided possible leads by the time these LEO's climbed out of their cars and cordoned the area. It wasn't quick enough and it wasn't good enough either.

He felt a finger nudge his shoulder, impressed she could manage this close without detection. Even so, he wouldn't provide her the satisfaction by voicing what he thought of it. She was still too cheeky and smug after saving his ass earlier.

"What?"

"I'm done."

Gibbs nodded; eyes focussed on the cabin, though still wary of her as she moved into his peripheral view. His arm raised towards the rental.

"Upload the photos and forward them to D.C. Make sure MTAC redirects them to Abby Sciuto."

"Didn't Director Vance order us to make use of the resources available in Yuma? And that we were, under no circumstances, to request the help of your team?"

"You're really starting to piss me off, Major." He snarled as he turned towards her.

At the dominating voice, Tori stood to attention. "Sir, yes Sir." She mocked.

Gibbs positioned himself inches in front of her shoulder and whispered in her ear. "What else has the two of you been discussing?" He paused smiling shrewdly, then requested in an intense, daunting voice. "Who are you really?"

Gooseflesh raided her arms while the tone snaked down her frame. The question was meant to do exactly that, unsettle her. But she titled her head towards him, and replied in the same tone.

"I am Major Tori Hatcher, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, I . . . _outrank you_."

The last declaration had echoed soft and venomous, astounding her, but she made sure a neutral expression obscured the fact. She sensed him smirk against her ear, then he vanished from view, walking for the vehicle. Once in range, he slammed his ball cap against its roof several counts in procession before he cooled down. He stroked a hand through his hair, closed his eyes.

Somehow, he felt cornered, trapped like a bird in a cage unable to implement what was second nature. Every time he sensed it was going well, she stone-walled him. Correction, Vance stone-walled him. She represented a messenger. A damn go-between, following the orders of someone she seemed to respect more than what she did him. To her, he wasn't a threat, merely a guest she entertained for the Director's sake.

No, it was something else.

In this location, he had no comfort zone, no boat he could use as a springboard and no team to support him. He failed to think straight, stay on target. When last had he left Washington? Investigated a case thousands of miles away, without the help of his team? The Director had partnered him with a stranger, intentionally and albeit a Marine, she was a woman. He couldn't force her to obey, follow his methods or trust his judgment. She had a profession of her own, an Agency which trusted her skills as an investigator. Also, she was thirty-seven, intelligent and schooled in a different era. She perceived things from an obscure angle, trusted more than her gut and wasn't scared to follow through on it. Nevertheless, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something.

Akin to him, she had a code of conduct she lived by on a daily bases. Yet dissimilar to him, like a mirror she reflected an individual's behaviour back at them. An effective tool used to rattle cages. He just didn't think it would rattle his.

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs." Tori voiced behind him. "I was out of line."

He turned to confront her, leaning against the rental as he did so. "Don't apologize – it's a sign of weakness." He recited as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"There's a time for everything."

His hands fell to his sides, irked that she'd rejected something he stood by. It was a lesson he'd taught his Agents from the beginning.

She explained the rebuff. "I was taught to acknowledge when I offended another person. In particular, one who's lived a lot longer on this green earth than what I have. Expressly when I've hit close to home and degraded them. And yes. On the odd occasion I do get sucked into my duty. That everything else looks like an obstacle preventing me from achieving it. In that moment, rules become so important, there's no mercy for those who disrespect it." She revolved her hands before her, conviction creasing her brow. "I don't know if that makes sense to you."

A faint smile slinked across his lips, though it concealed the astonishment he experienced due to the candor. He cleared his throat, a tad uncomfortable. The Major had provided him another clue he sought after. The mystery behind Tori Hatcher.

In the backdrop, she continued. "Behind each mask a person displays "there's a reason why I behave the way I do" or "it's my background that I react". It's done out of self-preservation, defending their true selves from the outside world. They're frightened their unique qualities will be shunted. Like in the animal kingdom, the strong survive and the weak get cast aside. In such a manner, the introverts are labeled as antisocial. And the extroverts as eccentric and people pleasers." She shrugged an 'oh well'. "It's merely a smidgen of how I observe people in general."

Gibbs' blue eyes glinted in recognition and voiced it aloud, amazed he'd done so. "You see what's hidden behind a facade. From the onset?"

She scowled puzzled. "Ah, yes, more or less."

"How did you see through Miguel's guise? How did you know he was using a federal agency as a basis for terrorism? I speculated until I dug deeper and found the subterfuge, but you've known since the beginning."

"Out of everything I'd just said _that's_ what you got?" With a mischievous smile, he shrugged. She grinned at the frankness. "Yeah, what a way to sever an awkward discussion."

"If you haven't noticed, but I don't do the hearty, emotional stuff very often. Words in that regards, they're not easy. Now investigating, _interrogating_ . . . that I excel at." His jaw tightened, yet the following words were said playfully stern. "Now answer the damn questions, Major."

A wince flitted over her countenance. She'd let her guard down, wanting to please him and now she sat with a nasty can of worms she had to cover up.

 _Director Vance's gonna have my head for the slipup._

Tori gazed to the left, amber eyes glinting in relief as the first sign of a police car veered in their direction.

"Cavalry's arrived." She announced, Gibbs canting his head when he heard the joy in her voice. He pushed off and greeted the lead officer in reluctance.

He practically had her right where he wanted her. The secret she'd been hiding within his grasp, but priority and responsibility trumped it. It was time to withdraw and give her the rope she needed before he reined her in for the climax. He refused to go into battle with someone he didn't trust. A rare attribute shared between Marines, even if they were twenty-two years apart.


	5. Bodyline Punchout

**Chapter 5** **:** **BODYLINE PUNCHOUT**

 **FOLLOWING MORNING**

Gibbs beckoned her forward with a forefinger. Opened the door to the interrogation room. Tori adhered until she stopped on the threshold to discover the room was empty with only two chairs as its occupants. His hand rested between her shoulders, sending a slight startle down her frame and urged her forward in a gentle manner. Next walked by, motioned at the empty chair to the right, and grabbed for the one on the left.

Both took a seat in tandem. Both looked at one another with the same impassive expression.

"No one's listening. No one's watching. It's you and me."

"But are they really?" She joked.

"No googlys."

Her eyebrow raised with the Cricket term.

"No backdoor sliders."

She nodded at the baseball lingo.

"There's no long way around or short cuts or power plays, just a bodyline punchout."

Her eyebrow quirked amazed. "Sweet thought linking the two sports, I must say. Very . . . straight to the point. Kinda like it."

"I don't take well to being manipulated, Major. Got it?"

A wry sneer moved across her countenance.

"You're not going anywhere until I get what I want."

"What is it that you want?"

Gibbs mirrored her wry smirk.

"In life, that is. Peace and quiet? Retire then." She narrowed her eyes, countenance mischievous. "Nah, for you it's overrated. You still have too much to give in your profession."

He moved to speak, but she raised a finger preventing him. The action earned her a dangerous look, which she disregarded in a daring fashion.

"You said straight to the point, remember."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees; looked at her with a strong tenacity. "You're not a Marine, soldier yes, but not a Marine."

"Neither were you for shooting an unarmed man all those years ago."

Like a slide show, images of his wife and daughter flitted in his mind. He sat back, gaze distant, and heart aching with grief as he absorbed the statement.

 _How could she? How did she know? That's_ . . . "Personal." He murmured.

 _You just hit the bulls-eye with one throw at something I hate myself for doing. It's so close to home for someone who's harboring secrets like I do. How do you live with yourself every day and still find the time to pry at someone's behavior?_

 _Is it life? Weaknesses? Pain?_

 _My reason for fighting is the very thing you struck with a cruel . . ._

"It's a cruel blow from someone you wanted to rattle." Tori specified deviously as she leaned forward. "A full toss, Agent Gibbs, a bodyline punchout."

"Stop!" He raised a forefinger, glare burning with anger. "Keep your mouth shut." He lowered his hand and gazed to the left, not trusting himself to stay professional.

Complacent, she leaned back against the chair, crossed her legs at the knees, and rested her hands in her lap. A tactic she'd learnt from yesterday's interrogation.

 _Know your opponent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You think you know, but you missed the sleight of hand before I introduced myself to you. Use this case as your guideline. Come on._

' _How did she know about my wife and child?'_

 _I supplied you with what you wanted didn't I? It wasn't a full toss, yet a foretaste of who I truly am._

 _Figure it out, I implore you, figure it out or I'll have to deliver more punchouts._

 _C'mon! I don't wanna torture you. Can't you see my heart is bleeding for you? Please! Help me help you. Please, look at me. Look at my eyes. Look at my face. I'll present you with what you want to hear. Provide me the opening I need. The power play's exhausting, the tactics like rebounding arrows. Let's yield, find common ground. Let's work together so that we can catch this bastard, go our separate ways._

 _I can't manage this any longer Gibbs, put me out of my misery, your misery. I don't deserve to feel your years of sorrow, to consider the weight on your shoulders. I see it in your eyes each time I look at you. In the way you act, the way you hold people at a distance. It merely draws sympathy towards your cold nature._

 _Stop me from hurting you, let's help each another instead. C'mon! You don't deserve this._

"C'mon!" Tori bellowed at him, jerking him from his musing. She snarled it again challenging him to take the bait.

"Push back." She stood to her feet, his head lifting with the action. " _Find_ the underlying cause. _See_ past the surface, Gibbs. It's there dammit. Break through! Do what you do best. Fight!"

He considered her ploy, then joined her in standing, countenance firm and unrelenting as he accepted the contest.

"That's it!" She commended. "That's it. What's irritating you? What's pecking at your brain like a pesky raven?"

Gibbs gestured to her. " _You_ , that's who, you're the spoke in the wheel."

Tori scowled astonished. "That's it?" She almost sounded disappointed but quickly recovered as he took a step closer.

"You're deliberate, annoying and in my way. I _want_ my rules, my experience, and my methods to conduct this investigation." He took another step closer. "Without secrets and without you throwing my behaviour back at me. I deserve better."

She retreated as he stepped forward with one more step.

"I _want_ you, the _real_ you present in this investigation." Inches away, he stared down at her, Tori resolute as she held his gaze with a candid expression. "Not the fake, shrewd version of yourself. _You_ Tori, not Major Hatcher. _You_."

His countenance softened as tears glistened in her eyes. Then reached out and enveloped her in a hug, holding her like a pleased father. Sobs racked her body as she soaked in the familiar gesture. Relaxing the hold, he wiped at the tears on her one cheek, while he retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket. She accepted it a tad embarrassed something he remedied with a tender smile.

He could discern loss. She had nothing to feel guilty about and truthfully, this wasn't what either of them had anticipated this morning. Even so, the interrogation was far from over. He sought the truth and she'd allowed him the opening to do so by utilizing a painful technique. Yet at the same time it had also been enlightening.

He directed her towards the chair, fetched his own and placed it so that their knees where inches apart. It showed the ice had been broken, that she could trust him with her secret.

"You've lost someone close." He pointed at the dog tags visible beneath her shirt's collar. "You're married."

Tori fingered the silver ring engraved with vines and studded diamonds for flowers. She nodded. "Yeah, I am. My husband's very much alive."

A chuckle slipped by her lips as the precious memories of their wedding came to mind. Then shook her head while she reined them in, along with the fresh set of tears. Gibbs grimaced at the unpleasant territory he'd placed himself in.

"I was Green Beret; Special Forces for six years before I left the army and set my sights on the Air Force. There I engaged in Special Reconnaissance missions and Joint Special Operations for ten years. I did everything in my power to place myself in the line of fire, so that innocent civilians didn't have to. I wanted to aid those who needed help, and enlisting was the only way I thought I could achieve said goal."

The room fell silent, Gibbs squaring his jaw in disappointment. Tori gazed at her hands. She knew exactly what entered his mind, what he felt in the moment. They'd been chasing a subterfuge and all this time, she'd played a shell game of her own.

He tapped her knee twofold. "You think too much." The words were kind, soothing and a delicate rebuke, the opposite of what she'd expected. "Always three steps ahead, hell, even five; stay in the present and complete your story."

Confident, she lifted her chin and was met with an expression she'd last seen as a teenager. He was grinning, truly grinning at her in a caring fashion and it caught her off guard. Conceivably, it was his way of disarming his opponent. Providing them with a sense of comfort before he came in for the final blow.

"Are you sure no one's listening or watching? Perhaps hacked the feed?"

Gibbs dipped his chin, signalling she should have confidence in him.

"You talk." He gestured to himself. "I'll listen."

"Yeah, sounds about right." She quipped with a snicker.

He rolled his wrist at her. "C'mon, you know what I want. The truth, it's always better."

"My decision to enlist in the army was last second yes." A knot formed in her throat, sorrow snarling her countenance. She swallowed and continued. "I did it because my dad was a hero. A devoted soldier who died serving his country. He'd seen so much, experienced so much, he didn't wish for any of us to follow in his footsteps. My brothers obeyed, went their separate ways, and made successful lives for themselves." She motioned to him, slight grin curling her lips. "My dad's about the same age as you and would've given me hell for what I did."

He shook his head to say she was wrong. "But he wouldn't have been disappointed, Tori. Trust me; if he were alive today, he'd be proud of you."

"Yeah, I know, just not about how I've been holding out on you."

"We're settling our indifferences. It's a start." He stroked his fingers beneath his chin, eyes narrowed in thought. "Why hide it?"

"As you guessed, except for my career and hometown, everything else is based upon the truth. My attributes, the notes from superiors – all true. Our talk at the cabin – that was all me as well."

"Always be specific when you lie." He quoted. She nodded. "You relayed a sixteen year military background. You're still missing three years."

"All I can say is _intelligence_ , the rest you'd have to piece together for yourself."

Gibbs shook his head, detesting the reply. "Not good enough."

"The cover was provided to me by your Director and by those I'm not at liberty to disclose. It's all I can give you, Gibbs."

" _Not_. Good enough."

"I know how you feel about trust, I know what it takes to gain that trust. But consider my line of expertise. I'm sworn to secrecy and I've already crossed the line for you, already pushed the boundaries. Why do you think I relented? You're one heck of a Special Agent, who's done more for this country than I could ever do. You've helped so many families find solace. Taught several to learn from your mistakes. Trained exceptional investigators. And even if you don't demand it from me, you deserve respect."

Gibbs glared, not fooled by the rebound or sincere admiration. "You done?"

"Too much?" Tori sneered shrewdly.

"Uh-huh. You know what happened to the last person who used the word intelligence?"

"Shot, multiple times, by Anthony DiNozzo. He got what came to him."

"Lucky you're not him, and fortunate enough that Vance asked me to trust him."

Gibbs leaned forward, head tilted to the right before he observed her lean forward. She murmured a name in his ear. After that, he sat back, evidently satisfied with the information.

Tori flashed him a wayward smile. "Good enough?"

"Yeah, that's more than enough, Major. Now how about we get back to business?"

Tori raised her finger and eyebrow. "There's one more thing I need to level about."

He chuckled at the irony. "Oh yeah, no kidding."

She beckoned him closer with the same raised finger. His eyes squinted in curiosity, bent forward, observing how she placed her head beside his.

"Agent Montenegro never received Derringer's message. It went straight through to a dummy account Director Vance had arranged for this occasion. So, whoever sent those guys after us, it wasn't Miguel."

Gibbs lowered his chin, eyes glaring at the carpet annoyed. "A head's up would've been nice, Tori." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, calmed down, and tilted his head. "That all?"

As she nodded, Gibbs stood to his feet. "Another _discussion_ with Agent Derringer is in order."

Tori stood and walked to the door. "I'm on it."

"By all means, you will and don't come back . . ." She halted, stunned by the harsh tone, then glanced over her shoulder marking the roguish expression on his face. ". . . without coffee."

"A particular brew?"

"You're the analyst, figure it out."

"That's comforting, thank you." Tori replied in a satirical voice, opening the door to leave.

"Welcome." He waved her off. "Go."


	6. Nicked for a Six

**Chapter 6** **:** **NICKED FOR A SIX**

"What's up?" The Major asked as he stepped into the room.

"Zero, nil, zilch. Dammit, weren't you listening?" Gibbs snapped at her.

Tori raised an eyebrow, while she stared in a cheeky fashion. "As it happens, I wasn't." Her finger pointed to the device next to the two-way mirror. "Turned it down a little while ago. I observe better without sound, think better, too."

Coffee in hand, he stood beside her, too irritated to rebuke her for the deed and breathed out an audible sigh.

"Pig-headed or reluctant?" He asked, confirming what she had discerned.

"Or he's lying." She offered, side glancing at him.

"Verify."

"The way he grips his knees – it's common for those inclined to apprehension. In his case however, he employs it to hide the truth."

"Okay." He elongated the word, requesting more.

"His eyes may have been all over the place, but when he voiced the truth he looked directly at you."

"Example."

"He didn't send those guys after us."

"Uh-huh picked it up too."

Stepping up to the window, her eyes squinted in thought. "Did you mention a woman?"

Gibbs dipped his chin and narrowed his eyes, interest piqued. "Agent Anise Owens. Why?"

"There was a moment where his eyes glinted in angst and elation. Either they're in a relationship or he wants more than friendship. When I spoke to her, she never mentioned it or looked Derringer's way. She did however show interest in Miguel."

"Romance between Agents – it never works." He uttered over the rim of his coffee cup.

"That's your rule not the Agency's."

"Anything else?" Gibbs snarled in a subdued tone.

Tori turned her attention on Derringer, pondered for a curt moment.

"We've already established that protecting Miguel made him an accessory. Then he should surely recognise you will threaten him if he doesn't cooperate."

"Thought had entered my mind." Gibbs replied, mind churning over the previous statement.

"Especially after what happened at the cabin, he should feel responsible. The fact is, he doesn't. In his opinion, he's the good guy, and we're the bad guys. Why don't we do something that will gain his trust, lower his guard?"

"How?" He had an idea, but in this way, he was gaining insight on her thinking process. He raised an eyebrow when she stalled with replying.

"For starters, there's Anise Owens."

"You just said she didn't like the man."

"Don't mean we can't manipulate her."

"She really that naive?"

"When it comes to love, yes."

Gibbs gestured at Agent Derringer, still dubious about the plan. "What about him? Can you guarantee he won't know it's bogus? Time's wasting if you're mistaken."

"If we allow her to open up about Miguel, we can fool Derringer into thinking it's in fact about him. A voice recording can do _so much_ damage, once altered."

Tori turned towards him, inspecting his countenance for a hint of glee. In lieu, he schooled a tentative expression, then paged through the file in hand. Stopped once he'd found the desired page.

She followed the action in irritation. "Problem?"

"No, but I have something else in mind." He raised his chin and stared at Derringer.

A tad annoyed, she protested. "Why then . . ."

"Propositioning brings about another plan."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It does to me." Gibbs walked for the door, unlocked it with a complacent smile, and gestured at the intercom. "Turn it up, Major."

"At least give me a hint." She pleaded.

"Listen, that's an order."

The door slammed shut. Tori sighed in exasperation and did as told. Crossed her arms over her chest and watched as Gibbs entered the room. His face still dripped with the same smugness and she snorted in frustration. He sat down, squared his jaw, and stared at the Agent.

"This is how it's gonna go, Agent Derringer. Either you cooperate or I'll make sure you spend the night in a county jail cell."

Casey's eyes expanded in shock, taken aback by the forthright threat.

"Even better, I'll arrange it so that you'll have a bunkmate." Gibbs chuckled. "Oh and do I have the perfect pal for you. Shot at point blank range for resisting arrest. Remember him?"

"It was an accident. The evidence supports it." Casey retaliated in haste.

"Yeah, not what he thinks. Trust me; with the current weather outside, an injured shoulder hurts like hell."

"This is . . ." He left the sentence hanging, challenging the man's bluff.

"You say something?"

"It's not working Gibbs." Tori directed at him from behind the mirror. "C'mon, you're badgering him not roping him in."

"I'm not bluffing, Derringer." He stood to his feet and walked to the door. "I have two Agents waiting outside to escort you to Yuma P.D."

"He has?" She asked, hands falling to her sides in astonishment. Next, she gazed at his harsh expression and relented. "Oi, he has." _That's foul play. You duped me._

Gibbs took a step towards him, glare at a dangerous high. "Tell me where Miguel went on his off days, or you're gone."

"I gave a location already."

"Not good enough." Gibbs growled and opened the door. As promised, two men stood outside waiting for their last-minute instruction.

"Okay!" Casey caved, hands showing objection, his face flushed with the outburst. "Okay, he might've mentioned a doctor he went to, off the books."

"Where?" Hesitance flitted over his countenance, but the man's fierce advance convinced him otherwise. "Winterhaven. The guy's in Winterhaven."


	7. Rip Cutter

**Chapter 7** **:** **RIP** **CUTTER**

"Two squad cars will meet us in Winterhaven. Then they'll escort us . . ."

"Black SUV!" Tori yelled as she gestured to his left at the oncoming vehicle.

He accelerated but it was too late and it rammed the rental's rear with a tremendous speed. Upon impact, his head ricocheted against the window, shattered its glass, then he slumped over unconscious. Tori, however, had braced for the impact, felt the car swirl and stop with the driver's side angled towards the SUV.

 _Not good. Not good._ She chanted releasing the safety belt in a hurry.

Next, she helped Gibbs out of his and grabbed his gun while glancing through the back seat window. The SUV stood lifeless. Black smoke slithered from its crumpled hood, whereas tinted windows hid their attackers from view.

She swung the car door open, cocked the pistol down the left-hand side, and finding it clear, she turned towards Gibbs. Seized his shoulders titling his upper body for an effortless ex-filtration, then manoeuvred him from the wreckage.

"You're heavier than you look, Agent Gibbs."

She smirked wryly, hauling him past the passenger's door towards the front wheel, and placed his body in a sitting position between them. The engine block would shade him from the upcoming firefight. It would keep him safe, whereas it allowed her to move about without fear of neglecting him.

A woman shouted in warning, after which she heard the sound of treading boots coming from their left. In anticipation, Tori smashed the door's window, ducked for cover as the first procession of bullets smacked against its soft interior. Waited two counts, aimed through the window, and returned fire.

The gunman fell against the boot, slid to the road groaning in anguish, then slipped into a catatonic state. Next, she snatched Gibbs' phone from his belt and redialed the last number he'd called earlier.

"Yes, this is Major Hatcher."

She slammed the door shut and skulked with back first against the car down to the rear, keeping her partner in view.

"We have a federal agent down. Request immediate assistance to the corner of _E 32nd_ and _S 4th Avenue_. Be advised: suspects are armed and dangerous, use extreme caution."

The phone flipped shut, and she tucked it inside her jacket pocket. Peeked around the boot, when another set of bullets came her way. Recoiled. Rose to a crouched position to aim over the car, but the gunman pinned her down with another burst of bullets.

 _So I guess that option's busted. Plan C it is then._

Tori gazed at the slouched Special Agent.

"I could really use your help here, Gibbs." She declared, whilst she filtered through possible attack options. "Picked an excellent time to play hookey. You're missing out, man." She teased, taking hold of her USP.45. "But that's okay; I owe you one for trusting me."

Amused, she snaked his Colt 1911 along the rear of the car, up to the point where she glimpsed the outline of her attacker. Pulled the trigger, clipped his shoulder, then rose to her feet and shot with the .45 at his chest.

"That's two down for the count." She remarked, sighing in relief as she heard a welcoming sound.

Police sirens filled the looming silence, beckoning another two attackers from behind the SUV. One ran for an innocent bystander, drawing attention away from the other gunman who rushed straight for Gibbs. She responded in kind, injuring the first runner in the leg. Directed her USP at the second sprinter who was in reach of the car's hood and fired.

He tumbled to one knee, clenching the wounded thigh and spat foul expletives, before lifting his assault rifle towards Gibbs.

"Don't . . ." Tori warned. Though, still pulled the trigger, double tapping his heart. She fixed both weapons on the man to the left.

"Dare me." She threatened.

He relented. Fell to his knees with an unpleasant growl, interlacing his hands behind his head in surrender. Two police officers sprinted from cover, cuffed him, and hauled him to his feet. Thankful for the support, Tori lowered her weapons, and shouted at the remaining squad cars to secure the scene. Next, gazed at her partner in an agonizing wince. They were two for zero on this one.

* * *

Strands of liquid trickled down his cheek, slinked along his neck down his collarbone and ended at his chest. Then something soft, something warm stroked his forehead. Tapped his cheek. After that, it disappeared replaced by the overwhelming sensation of a sharp driven nail. It hurt like hell and he groaned as result.

"Crap." He hissed.

"Gibbs."

Tori's voice was distant but loud enough to jerk him from the distortion. He rubbed at his eyes, face recoiling as if he'd ingested a rotten lemon.

"Bloody hell that hurts."

"Yeah, hit your head pretty badly there in the crash."

Tori raised a hand for the area, but he responded and felt for the wound. His fingertips coated in blood upon touch and he lowered the hand. She winced on his behalf, tilted his chin towards her gaze. Next, raised a forefinger and shifted it from one side to the other. Blue eyes grew vacant, struggling to keep track.

"Got a mild to severe concussion. No worries, the EMTs will be here momentarily."

Gibbs ignored the swift inspection and pushed to stand, but he fell back against the car in a grunt. He tried once more, this time placing a hand on her shoulder and instructed in a croak.

"Help me up."

"Are you sure? I mean they're like . . ." She noted the tenacious glare. "Yeah, you're sure."

Tori bent down, snaked her arm around his back, while she positioned his left arm around her neck and took hold of his hand. The hoist was slow, painful, and uncomfortable, but once in tune he stood to gaze at the wreckage. White cloths hid three bodies from the accumulating crowds, whereas Yuma Police had made sure to tape off a vast area around the scene.

A soft, appreciative expression formed on his face. Somehow, through the haze, he caught a glimpse of what she'd accomplished while he was down for the count. He swallowed against the pending nausea. Looked down as vertigo surfaced and noticed the blood dripping from her fingertips. His eyes trailed her left arm until he pinpointed the source on her shoulder. What he saw made him gasp and he extended a hand for her wrist and seized it in a gentle vice grip.

"Your grizzly jacket's ruined." He said, thwarted on her behalf.

Tori scowled before she snickered. "Yeah, but I was due for an upgrade anyway. It can be replaced."

Gibbs frowned as the leather and deep nicked flesh doubled up in his vision. Snubbing it, he looked over at her hand, rotated it gradually so that he could view the incisions on her palm.

"You're bleeding, Tori."

"Cut it as I smashed a window." She explained.

He nodded and let go, hand feeling for his holster. It had felt empty as he got up and had wondered if he'd lost it in the crash.

"Where's my . . .?"

"Since backup was . . . _elsewhere_ , I had to improvise."

Gibbs grimaced apologetic. She swiftly remedied.

"It's cool, don't worry. You still had my six, in a way. Sorry, the gun's kinda . . . my injured hand . . ."

"'Tis okay. I understand." His eyes narrowed, gaze moving over the rental, vision distorted as he did so. "You . . . you were right . . . I should've."

Tori felt the entire weight of his body collapse forward as he passed out, compensated in a hurry, grabbing hold of his upper body in a bear hug.

"Ah, a little help here."

A nearby officer turned on her heels, reacted, and caught them as they sank down to the road in tandem.

"EMT's just arrived, Ma'am"

"Thank you, Officer. Much appreciated."

* * *

Thirty minutes later on the walk over, Jethro Gibbs regarded Tori where she sat in the back of the ambulance. Her eyes focused on the Medic's hand as he cleansed her arm from dry blood, then went on to stitching the sizable laceration on her shoulder.

"After serving sixteen years in the military, you'd think I would be used to this by now."

The Medic cackled in a mellow tone.

Gibbs' face creased in a profound grimace, somewhat responsible for the deed. Beside her, he nudged her shoulder. Tori startled, having not heard his approach, and looked at him with a gleeful smirk.

"Hey." He said.

"Hey yourself, I see they've stitched the gash up nicely."

"You?"

"Uh." She lifted her left hand. "Nell removed the shards. Just finished stitching it up and bandaged it real good as you can see."

"Uh-huh." He glanced over his shoulder. "I get the feeling this wasn't an accident."

"You think? Twice in twenty-four hours, I'd said." She gestured at the body by the rental's hood. "Not to mention that that guy, he was gunning for you. I was just a . . . a nuisance. I hate being a nuisance."

Flouting the credible detail, he held up the evidence bag. "They found this."

Tori regarded the touchscreen tablet through squinted eyelids. "They hacked our rental's navigation system. Go figures."

"Yeah, explains the ambushes."

"Here's a thought . . ." She began when the Medic cuffed her shoulder casually. Gibbs scowled at the behavior.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm done here. You're good to go, Major."

"Thanks Nell, you're a life saver."

"And don't I know it. See you later." He said as he climbed out and disappeared down the side of the ambulance.

"Friend of yours?"

The gruff question astonished her, triggering a wry smile to form on her lips.

"I make a habit of being friendly to people, that way I avoid bombshells in my coffee, or getting shot for that matter."

A snicker slipped by his lips, imagining the scenes. He rolled his wrist at her, getting the conversation back on track. "You were saying."

"Don't you think it odd that with each occasion it was info provided to us by . . . ?"

"By Agent Derringer? That man's beginning to . . ."

"Tick you off?"

"Uh-huh. I hate saying it, but I believe a Ruthian's in order."

"With great power comes great responsibility." She quoted.

"Do you think I care one iota what Leon Vance said? I'm tired of lagging behind; I want to get in front of these bastards. Avoid unnecessary scuffs."

Tori stood up, moved for her jacket, but Gibbs intercepted her.

"Here, use mine." He offered as he shrugged out of his jacket and helped her into it. Next, he gestured for her to sit down. She obeyed, dipped her chin as thanks, and observed while he raised an eyebrow at her. He knew she had something up her sleeve.

"You may hate me for this, perhaps like me even more. I don't know, with you it's a dark grey area."

Gibbs leaned forward; hand extended towards her head, but then retracted it by running the same hand over his hair.

Tori pretended to school a shocked expression. "Whoa-ho-ho was that the head slap manoeuvre? Wow, amazing restraint you got there."

"Major, the point?"

"In anticipation of our chat this morning I called Vance and persuaded him to include two more members." Tori glimpsed the time on his wristwatch. "All evidence that was bagged, tagged, and captured at the cabin will arrive on Abby's doorstep in the following ten minutes. Whereas Dr Mallard will receive the medical reports within the next hour or so. Regrettably, the info on these bodies will only reach him tomorrow morning."

"Anymore surprises I should know about?" Gibbs requested deadpan, though was immensely grateful for the foresight.

Relishing the moment, she continued in a light-hearted fashion. "What's more, I called in a marker which will arrive an hour from now at Marine Corps Air Station." She stood, patted his shoulder. "The attack dogs, they are a coming L.J Gibbs, they are a coming."

Laughter erupted from deep inside his belly, Tori sneering in a jubilant fashion. He gazed down at the tar, shook his head. "Now that's a Ruthian." Then lifted his eye line and glared. "And when were you planning on telling me this?"

"In the car, before we were _rudely_ interrupted." She beckoned him along as she walked by the ambulance. "Nell hooked us up with a friend who owns a car dealership. He's willing to lend us a vehicle for the duration of our stay." Tori peered over her shoulder and teased. "If you're a nice old man, you get to pick our ride."

Gibbs stopped, replying slow, methodical, and expressionless. " _Nice_. _Old man_?"

"What?" Unfazed, she pointed at his head. "Everybody knows your hair's not for show."

His lips curled amused and called after her as she walked away. "Tori."

She halted, her eyes still sparkling with humour. "Yebo."

The elder gentleman thumbed at the accident, countenance lighting up in pure appreciation. "Much appreciated."

"Anytime, Special Agent Gibbs, anytime."


	8. Occupying the Crease

**Chapter 8** **:** **OCCUPYING THE CREASE**

 **MARINE CORPS AIR STATION, AN HOUR LATER**

The sound of roaring laughter traveled down the hallway towards the Special Agent, caused him to halt. To his ears, it sounded like a pack of hyenas ecstatic with their fresh kill. It incited a sneer at the corner of his lips. He should've known better when she'd deserted him in the parking lot, confused as to why this favor was so significant. He'd never seen her so excited, so thrilled, and it had reminded him of a bouncing, bubbling school girl. He smirked at the image and walked to the double doors of the Mess. Halted out of view, but still close enough to peek through the miniature window.

The group huddled around a table, relaxed and at ease with one another.

 _Air Force soldiers, four of them and by the looks of it they served together. Her old unit maybe. How did Leon manage this or was it Tori's doing? Then again, the more the merrier I guess. A little help never hurt anyone, but the rest of Team Gibbs would've been so much better. Them I trust._

Gibbs laughed under his breath. _Wonder what my C.O. would've said about my latest move. A former Marine and five Air Force soldiers – who would've thunk._

He stepped closer, hand on the door and shoved. _Let's make an entrance shall we?_

"Major Tori Hatcher!"

At the call, she vacated her chair, unfazed by the barking tone. While the rest of her former squad peered with interest at the advancing Special Agent.

"Guys, this is the infamous Special Agent Gibbs."

"Former Marine?" The lead soldier queried as he extended a hand.

Gibbs captured it in a firm vice grip, matching the Lt Colonel's raking glare, and answered. "Uh-huh."

His eyes inspected the soldier noting his short, spiky black hair, cloudy greenish eyes, and beard that had a slight gray breaking through. They were the same height and the man's attitude laced with boldness. Estimated guess placed him in his mid-thirties.

"I'm Lt. Colonel Danny Johnson, demolitions expert and rifleman." He relayed as he let go of the Special Agent's hand. Afterward, he thumbed at the woman next to him.

Gibbs smiled at her, dipping his chin in acknowledgment. Something she returned in suspicion. She was five-foot-one. Had medium-length black hair, dark skin, and brown eyes. Moreover, she seemed like a very calm and collected young woman. He pegged her for a sniper and smiled drolly when the Colonel confirmed it.

"Captain Alexia Fletcher, a first-rate soldier, and marksman."

Tori shouldered the man next to her, smiling wickedly. "This here is Captain Mason Dekker, known for his furtive approach to any kind of combat situation. Well, so I've heard."

At five-foot-six, he stood to attention, gave Gibbs a sloppy salute. His hair was short and ebony, had hazel eyes. And Tori wasn't far off the mark, his dark tanned skin certainly aided in his stealth technique. He also marked the charisma in his eyes, making him for an out-spoken young man in his mid-twenties.

A head with clipped flaxen hair appeared from behind Johnson, walked over to him and shook his hand. "Major Michael Berth at your service."

Gibbs' eyes came to rest on the lengthy fringe that fell over to the right. He let go, acknowledged his greeting. Inspected the soldier's brown eyes, moreover his kind and reserved features. Additionally, he was five-foot-nine in stature and a slightly younger version of Major Hatcher.

"He's the Egghead of the team." Johnson explained. "Nice, intelligent, but deadly. Makes for a killer combination, dontcha think Agent Gibbs?"

"It depends." The reply was brief, Tori shaking her head as she heard the sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah, on what?"

"If he's Major Hatcher."

" _Oh_ , slam dunk ladies and gentlemen." Dekker quipped ecstatic. "Here." He dragged a chair from the table opposing them and placed it at theirs. "For that, you deserve a seat at the round table."

"Hang on there, Mason ol' boy."

Johnson stood and stepped up to the veteran. Both matched a pokerfaced stare, Gibbs showing a little cockiness in his. Johnson's face gradually opened up into a cunning expression.

"He's a Marine, Captain. Hard ass by the looks of it. You think he's worthy to join the Knights of the Round Table?"

"C'mon, stop horsing around." Tori interrupted; hand on Danny's chest as she parted the glaring duel. "I admit he's no King Arthur, but he's definitely not a Lancelot." She heard Gibbs and Alexia snort at the comparison, then specified. "Robin Hood perhaps."

"Wrong myth, Lady Marian." Dekker sneered.

"No, we differentiated she's Joan of Arc remember." Berth amended in a firm tone.

"She was burned at the stake, who wants that?" Alexia inserted for good measure.

"The stuff legends are made of." Johnson jeered as he sat down, gaze still fixed on the man standing behind his former C.O.

His countenance was resolute, protective, and clearly in the thick of this conversation. Although he made sure not to display it. The enjoyment glinted in his ice blue eyes, while smugness etched his stoic veneer.

"Hey, we agreed not to joke about that." Tori scolded.

"It's tight, the crowd on the edge of their seats as they roar for the final match point." Mason grabbed a spoon and continued the dramatic commentary. "Will she go down center court? Will she take the long shot? Or get right in his face; knock him on his ass for the short jump?"

"How about I rebound it off your head and go for the slam dunk."

The team focused their attentions on Captain Dekker, expressions bland as they waited for a retort.

He curtsied like a tenor and motioned to her. "And that my fellow brethren, is the great Tori Hatcher."

Gibbs cleared his throat, Tori's eyes displaying concern for what followed next. As one, the team returned their gazes to him, sighted her expression and stayed on the quiet side. His hand extended over her shoulder, and with a wry smile raised his index finger at Danny.

"King, is it?" The man nodded. "Settle your warriors."

"Sir." He returned, his teammates standing to attention along with him. "Knights at your service."

They saluted in unison, Gibbs and Tori returning the gesture in like manner before they stood at ease.

"Loyal to a fault and obedient with the tendency of biting back. Tenacious." He summarized and walked for the chair Dekker had set out for him. "Makes for excellent attack dogs." He applauded once more, rotated it in reverse, and sat down. "I like them already."

Delighted smiles lit up in the group while they joined him in sitting. Seats huddled so that he could address them like a C.O. That sure triggered a broader grin on his lips. Ostensibly, this case just received the injection it needed to put them out in front. He liked those odds.

"Major Hatcher here update you already?"

"Yes, I did so yesterday when I spoke with Colonel Johnson. They know what's going on and know the risks. They're trustworthy."

The Agent's eyes trailed from her and came to rest on Danny, bored him with a stare before inquiring. "That true Lt. Colonel?"

"Yes, Agent Gibbs."

"So if I ask you to rat on the Major, you will oppose my order?"

"No question, Sir."

"And if I request her to do so, will she disobey me as well?"

"I trust her to do the right thing."

"She's done it before, hasn't she Colonel? The Major's ratted you out to your Commanding Officer."

Danny nodded, but there was no ill will towards the Major, instead he saw admiration and respect.

"Rather it rescued you from a dishonourable discharge."

The Lt. Colonel frowned at Tori. She put her hands up, shaking her head that she'd never mentioned it to Gibbs.

"I don't need to read your file to know, Colonel. Your face and eyes convey the story all on their own." He motioned at each individual. "So does each and every one of you." He thumbed at Tori beside him. "A whole other story; a real pain in the ass."

Her former team snickered at the remarks, acknowledging the truth in their unique ways. Danny gazed between the two of them, considerate expression forming on his face.

"Even so, she's willing to go out and bat for every single one of us. She sees the good and implements a peculiar method to deal with the adverse. Like families do for one another. As a squad, we've come to trust one another. And even when we go off the reservation, someone's bound to get us back on track. We don't leave our people behind."

"Well said, Colonel, well said." A new respect for the man rose within the veteran and he gazed at Tori. She gave him a lopsided smirk. He continued, eyes combing over the soldiers as he returned his attention to Danny on his right.

"I have a team of my own in D.C. We watch each other's backs, day after day. Lean on each other through thick and thin, good or bad. I don't have to worry out in the field, 'cause I know they'll cover me whether I want it or not. They've supported me through impossible situations and in return I take care of them. Steer them with experience and wisdom gained over the years. Lead them as best I can. The question is. Can I depend on you to do the same for me?"

Silence settled amongst them, eyes glued to the Special Agent. He took that as a 'yes' and breathed in deep, wondering when last he'd voiced a deep consideration for his team. He let the breath slip through his lips, considering his next declaration carefully. If he wanted a proper lowdown on the Major, although uncomfortable and rare, this was it. While he still occupied the team's attention. Before focus on the investigation demanded his full attention and he ended up regretting this agreement.

"It's possible your C.O. knows this; it could be I was successful in hiding it from her." He shrugged. "I doubt it, though." He sensed her lean forward, waiting in expectation. "Initially, the correlation was infuriating until we reached a stalemate and settled our indifferences. In an unusual style."

"That's Tori for ya." Alexia commented.

"We could never discern what she was thinking." Berth added. "Or what plan she has cooked up."

"She sees the blueprint way before we run into the trouble." Mason said, then jested. "I mean, I'm supposed to be the stealth guy."

Danny concluded. "Yeah, and she always reminded us to protect our blind spots. Cover our weaknesses and reinforce our strengths."

The veteran glanced at her, noticed the flush on her cheeks. His face opened up in a carefree manner. "She may see the best in folks as well as their secrets, but she's a damn good guardian." He then addressed the team. "What say you?"

With mocking smiles, the members eyed one another. Tori already knowing what was about ensue, placed her head in her hands, embarrassed. Gibbs smiled wryly as they declared in unison.

"She's our _High Speed Grape_."

Laughter erupted once more, the Agent joining in with a good chuckle of his own. The atmosphere reminded him of how much he missed a bullpen teeming with his Agents, but like in D.C., he felt a sense of belonging. That he'd always been a part of this tight knit group even though they were old enough to be his children. Their dynamics brimmed with awe, humor, faith, and trust. All achieved without gaining it through manipulation. They honored and supported one another, rebuked one another, and then laughed about it later. Forging a long-lasting bond that would reach beyond their military careers.

Tori's voice broke through the musing, his head canting towards her on its own. She beckoned him to one side. He vacated the chair and followed her to a secluded table.

"Well, that was unexpected, especially for one with a _stoic glare you into submission_ vibe. It's like the team found the missing piece to the puzzle. That's just plain creepy for a man of view words."

"It happens, deal with it." He raised an eyebrow taunting her to retaliate, then concluded. "Silently."

Grabbing a chair each, they sat down in tandem and gazed at the team as they scooped food on their lunch trays. After a short while, Gibbs rubbed at his eyes with a forefinger and thumb, then felt a light squeeze on his other hand. He watched as her hand moved away along the table.

"You okay?" He nodded his accord, though he knew she discerned it was a lie.

His head felt as if it was in a murky cloud and couldn't seem to release its hold on him. Additionally, he blamed the setting, on the stirring of unwanted feelings, and emotions he'd fought to submerge beneath a thick layered mask.

Over the years, he'd only permitted Abby to enter his personal space, while the rest had to earn it. He'd never actually allowed anyone to break through his barrier, rather he'd nudged them away for apparent reasons. Somehow, this individual was unique; her team was different; _he_ was different. He couldn't help but feel at home, safe and wanted – that was what he truly, sincerely felt, _safe_.

"I wanted to notify you about the team on the way over, but you had that vague look in your eyes. You know the one privy to a recently concussed person. Good thing I was driving, otherwise we would've ended up at the Fort Yuma Indian Reserve." She paused as he glared and then spoke with concern. "It's okay to take a break, no one will blame you."

Gibbs shook his head, eyes trained on her in negate. "As the minutes tick by, it gives the enemy time to recuperate and mount a proper defence. Leads grow cold. Witnesses get the opportunity to change their statements. Our advantage, surprise dwindles to a dangerous low."

Tori dipped her chin, accepting his reasoning. After that, two kitchen staff placed trays with lids on their tables and withdrew. Gibbs blinked at it a few times, stomach protesting with a bout of nausea; intensified as she lifted the lid.

Potato, baby carrots and peas, freshly baked bread and a portion of beef filled the plate's circumference. He closed his eyes at the mere thought.

"Try the potato first; it's soothing to the stomach." He grabbed his fork and flicked its rounded edge against her forehead. "I don't need a mother hen, but the concern's duly noted."

She snickered, mirroring an akin smile his mother used to give him. He overlooked the picture and gestured with the fork at the team.

"What's their cover?" He asked as he played with the potato.

"Training exercise."

"Ah." He said, chaffed that his deduction was correct, as always.

"Dearie me, is Agent Gibbs speechless?" She mocked.

In response, he waggled his fork at her, expression mischievous as a scolding.

"CID loaned them temporary credentials granting them freedom to move about."

"Amazing what inter-agency cooperation gets you these days."

The Agent looked down at the plate of food, finding that the potato had indeed mellowed his stomach. There was no way he would confess to it. Besides, he had the notion she already did. He sliced off a trivial piece of meat, then directed it towards them.

"Have a plan?" He asked before he placed the bite size in his mouth.

Her amber eyes followed the gesture and gazed at her former team. "Naturally."

"Now." He demanded.

"Major Berth's a brilliant geek. Knows how to hack, etc. He can trace the tablet they'd found at the crash site back to the source. Hack the SUV's navigation system, as well as look at the pickup truck. Help Abby. Coordinate with her. He can also assist us out in the field, technically speaking. Surveillance, that kind of stuff."

Gibbs rolled his wrist for more, liking the thinking process thus far. Tori finished her last slice of bread and continued.

"Captains Fletcher and Dekker do the tailing and reconnaissance, the areas they thrive in. Report and provide backup." He nodded. She looked at Danny. "The Lt. Colonel may seem civil, but he's tough as nails. If the mercenaries are from the Middle East, he can have a talk with the injured gunman. Likewise, aid us in the field."

"Nah, you speak the language, as well. He can have a go at Agent Derringer. I have an inkling he can give us the turnaround we need."

"Fresh blood, fresh tactics, and an outsider."

"Precisely."

He leaned back, countenance displaying he was deep in thought. Tori went back to finishing her meal, when he spoke again.

"You did good selecting reinforcements, and arranging support from people I trust. Now there's freedom to work other angles."

"But."

Gibbs crossed his arms over his chest, expression still brooding. "I still can't see his motive."

"We haven't had the time to figure it out. Yet."

'What's his endgame?"

"Arming mercenaries with our weapons, presenting them the opportunity at killing innocent civilians."

"It's too easy and yet so difficult to prove."

"The thread's there, we need to follow it 'till the end."

"He's been at it for more than a decade and made damn sure to rest in a place no one would suspect. When he left, his business activities here washed-out as well. He's a ghost with distinctive masks."

He halted at the thought. Tori's face lit up, amber eyes glinting as he leaned forward.

" _Distinctive_." He paused again for a brief moment, spoke the mulling out loud. "Distinctive in this instance divides one man into separate identities. That's what the paper trail suggests and hopefully forensics will too. Nigel Alexander, Derringer confirmed as Special Agent Miguel. What if Miguel's still Miguel, he just swapped personal information with a buddy from school?"

"Then Nigel's information is fake. And Miguel's appearance is real in both instances."

"The shell game is in digital data. His sleight of hand changing both private and classified information." Gibbs narrowed his eyes, attention far away, as he finished. "Which means he can be anywhere or anyone by now."

"We're chasing a ghost with distinctive masks." Tori shrugged, stabbed a baby carrot, then stated. "It's a good theory, but what if the evidence depicts a conflicting story?"

A deep chuckle came from his chest as he relished the statement. "You're learning." Afterward, dipped his chin curtly as approval. "Atta girl."


	9. Keeping Score

**Chapter 9** **:** **KEEPING SCORE**

The team having retired for the evening, only he and Major Berth still occupied his room. The man had been kind enough to stay and help with setting up the different video feeds for Abby's lab and Autopsy. Still, even with the download of recent information, he sat staring at the laptop screen, mind mulling over the afternoon's dealings.

Captains Fletcher and Dekker had followed up on the doctor and had identified Nigel's image as Agent Montenegro, thus confirming what many had at NCIS's field office. Even the surviving gunman from this afternoon's shootout agreed to the same findings. Whereas Danny had come up short with Agent Derringer. Either the man was deliberate in withholding information, or he was in fact an accomplice. He pegged him for the decoy so that Miguel could cover his tracks and slip from their pursuit.

Evidence from the cabin produced nothing, except for the bodies that told half a story. Ducky had perused through the medical reports. Sent the necessary evidence over to Abby to analyse, and relayed that they'd found sand in their clothes. The forensic scientist had narrowed it down to a location. A vast forty to fifty mile radius of dunes and wilderness. Yuma's sand dunes to be precise. And fortunate for them, the SUV and the touchscreen tablet had yielded reliable information, narrowing down the search radius.

Furthermore, both Abby and Ducky had confirmed the gunmen's fingers were disfigured a month earlier. Around about the same time when Tori had begun her investigation on Nigel Alexander. Their fingerprints couldn't be traced. Passports were fake and they had to rely upon facial recognition to identify who they were and where they came from. Next on the list were DNA and dental results, that would take longer to yield fruit. Additionally, their weapons' serial numbers had received a dose of acid, making them untraceable.

Things typically termed as reliable in his line of work kept ending up in a dead end, left them with nothing concrete to pin Montenegro and Alexander.

Gibbs stiffened his fist, fingers squeezing hard against his palm. The skin turned red, flustered with the conduct and he released it.

"Abby, check if our military bases here had reported weapons stolen. Or had received a surplus of weaponry, especially those situated near the ports. If Alexander did use his company as a front, it explains how the mercs entered the country illegally, not to mention those weapons."

Abby's eyes grew big, face opening up in a riled expression. "C'mon Gibbs, I know I'm good, excellent at my job but that's a tall order. I need . . ."

"Get McGee to help you. And I'm sure Major Berth will be more than happy to lend a helping hand."

Abby stared at the computer screen, eyes moving from left to right avoiding his unyielding glare. "Umm, what about the Director?"

"Get it done, Abs."

"Yes, _oh great one_." She saluted her allegiance.

"And Abs." He paused, mischievous smile climbing ever so slightly. "Behind you."

Her eyes narrowed dubiously before she realised what he'd done. She swung around on her heels, and low and behold, there stood a Caf POW on the metallic table. She flung her hands up, squealed like an excited schoolgirl.

"My hero."

Gibbs enjoyed her reaction for little while longer before he closed the laptop and glanced over his shoulder at the Major. He sat immobile, hands typing away on the secondary laptop. He couldn't help but smirk at the scene. The young man mirrored a familiar conduct; quiet, hardworking and determined. He almost hated the next part.

"Major."

Michael lifted his chin to gaze up at the older man and answered soft and polite. "Yes, Sir."

"Agent Gibbs will do, Major." He nodded that he understood. "Good. According to recent evidence, our assailants have made a nest for themselves somewhere along the eastern edge of California Imperial Valley. As I recall correctly, that's dune country. Am I right?"

"Affirmative, Si- Agent Gibbs."

The Agent sneered at the slip up, but let it go. A soldier remained a soldier after all.

"You want satellite feed on the area?" He queried with a raised eyebrow.

Gibbs reflected the Major's expression, surprised the man had offered the suggestion. It wasn't that he liked the idea, they had protocols to follow. He shook his head. "Illegal."

"But not for Major Hatcher it isn't. I have full access to . . ." He shrugged nonchalantly, suppressed an artful grin, and completed the thought. "Well, to her classified authorization."

Laughter rattled the Agent's frame. "Of course you do. So you can locate . . .?"

"Their contingency and heat signatures. That is if you want to know within the following hour or so. Daytime will be trickier, 'cause the dunes are an attraction to recreational sports and holiday goers."

Gibbs schooled an impressed countenance, next stood to his feet. "You had me at an 'hour or so'."

" _A yes_ , it is then." Major Berth deduced.

The Agent dipped his chin, gestured at the room. "You're welcome to stay, grab some homemade brew, but sleep's important. We got an eventful day tomorrow and my forensic scientist needs your help as well."

Berth's face perked up with the mention and nodded enthusiastically. "No problem, Agent Gibbs. Always glad to help out a fellow I.T. fanatic."

"Yeah, I'm sure the feeling's mutual." Gibbs quipped to himself as he headed for the bathroom, then upon closing the door, extolled. "Well done Major Berth."


	10. Bandbox

**Chapter 10** **:** **BANDBOX**

"Fletcher and Dekker, you will take over-watch. Here." Tori's finger stabbed the crest on the digital map. "There you'll have a proper overview of the crater, camp site and provide info via the radios."

They nodded their consent as they got their gear from the back of the SUV.

Gibbs stepped up to Alexia and gazed over her shoulder. "Whatcha got there?"

Nonchalant, she grabbed the rifle and checked its magazine and bolt action. "Norinco QBU 88 or Type 88 for short."

"Chinese?"

"Yeah, works twofold; marksman and close combat, also has a ten round capacity. Rate of fire's quicker than, for example, a older version Remington rifle, where you have to do the bolt action manually."

"Had a M 40 sniper rifle when I was in the Corps." He provided as he walked away.

Alexia smirked at the short exchange and gave the rifle over to Dekker to check, whereas he handed over his assault rifle for the same inspection.

"Berth will supply technical support from the SUV. Whilst the EMTs will be on standby within reach."

"Yes, while you, the Colonel and me will advance on foot for the basin." Gibbs concluded on her behalf. "We got it, the first time."

"One can never be too careful." Tori said in a satirical tone, teasing the Agent while she shrugged into the tactical vest. "Could always send you ahead of us."

"Unreasonable." He relayed deadpan before matching her cocky expression. Shrugged. "It would be over before you got there."

"Whatever." She dismissed and waved at the Captains to go. "Radio us once in position."

"Yes, Major." Both replied and scurried for the nearby dune, then disappeared from view.

"Still no movement, Major." Michael called from the hood of the vehicle. "Probably still chowing away on their breakfast."

"MRE's in the morning?" Danny commented as he stepped up to Berth. "These guys are insane."

"Insane. No." Tori corrected with a snort, handing a tactical vest to Gibbs on the way over to the hood. "Best way to sell their supposed survivalist training. Genius."

The Agent joined them, vest over his head as he motioned at the terrain on the map.

"A clever tactic to keep away unwanted attention. Secluded, in a basin and in view of stragglers if they so happened to peak the dunes. Ample warning, too."

"Of course, but it's also a bad tactic if for instance someone like us, has snipers on the team."

"That's if you're assuming they're unequipped for the occasion." Gibbs challenged in a smug manner. " _Semper paratus_ – always be prepared."

"That sending you first quip's beginning to look _very_ attractive." She quipped over her shoulder.

"Perhaps we should, send him first." Danny inserted from the side. "He's the fly in the ointment. No disrespect intended, Agent Gibbs."

"Go on." Tori and the Agent retorted together, sharing a suspiciously precise pokerfaced countenance.

He gestured at Berth, her and then at himself. "Desert cameo." Motioned at Gibbs' attire. "Federal agent. Who do you think they're gonna identify first? Soldiers or a sleek businessman?"

"I was gonna do it anyhow." Gibbs retorted with a nod.

Tori smirked, thumbing at her partner. "Yeah, it was never a question with him, Danny."

"Then why?"

"You see?" She pointed at the man's bewildered expression. "Not the only one who thinks it's annoying."

"Hello ladies." Dekker announced over the com. link. "Sierra one and two in position and ready to light 'em up. Over."

"Copy that, Sierra two." Danny answered. "Wait for signal. Alpha over." He patted Gibbs on the shoulder. "Papa's going first. We'll shadow you as you already seem to know."

"Better cover up ol' Reliable." Tori said as she motioned at his sidearm. "Vest too. Jacket's gonna get a little snug."

"Ya gonna tell me how to take point, too?" Gibbs rebuked subtly, eyes glinting mischievously.

"Nah, value my life too much to get in the way of greatness."

Tori pulled him off to one side, away from Danny and Berth. He stared at the hand holding his bicep as if it was a felony. She let go and checked to see that his vest hid beneath the blazer.

"Mothering again, Major Hatcher?" He swatted her hand away. "Done this hundreds of times and so have you." He walked towards the crater veiled behind a couple of dunes. "Stick to your task. I'll stick to mine. Execute on my order."

Shaking her head, she snorted and signaled to Danny. "Papa's in play. Berth, convey modification to Sierra, and give the heads up if there's a change. C'mon." She jogged east, motioning for the Lt. Colonel to take the westerly position. "Alpha's flanking Papa."

* * *

Sweat beaded down his temple, slithered down to his chin, while a lone bead snaked along his spine. Added to that, sand sieved through to his shoes as he sank down deep during the descent.

Up ahead, sat the camping site plastered amidst the basin. Just like the surveillance footage had provided the previous evening.

Cameo black crates were stacked to one side, providing a barrier for their right flank, whereas two black SUV's covered their left and rear flanks. Netted canvas tops spanned from the closest vehicle over to where two poles erected above the sand. A flap fluttering in the breeze served as the entrance. This was where he headed next.

In addition, a lone satellite dish glinting in the sun nested above the upper most crate. Wires ran away from the main tent, across the sand and over the crest to the north. Perhaps to a generator they'd hid from view. All things considered, they'd barricaded themselves pretty well. Made sure they were alerted to trespassers like himself via hidden go-cams.

"Uh, they've got eyes on perimeter." He whispered over the com. link.

"Sierra you're weapon's free. I repeat: you are now weapon's free." Danny instructed. "You stick to Papa like glue. Alpha will stay in cover position. Over."

"Copy that, Alpha. Sierra out."

Agent Gibbs smiled at the exchange, then halted as a thirty something man emerged from the entrance.

"Hola." He lifted up a hand. "Can you help a brother out?"

"Three relocated towards the tail end of their tent." Berth conveyed in his ear. "Five are mid-center and two situate at the front entrance."

The assailant straightened his back, stepping directly into full view. His face cringed with the sharp glint, but his cloudy eyes focused on the Agent.

"What's a suit doing in the desert?"

The absurdity in his tone triggered a bout of irritation within the veteran, but he played his part and laughed at the comment.

"Funny story actually." He thumbed over his shoulder. "Got wedged over the ridge there. And I said to myself, 'dang Pete, you're a stubborn old coot. First, you get lost, now you're in a tight spot. What are ya gonna do?' So, I thought I would take the gamble, you know, maybe I'll get lucky, find someone. And hey look, I did. So can you help a brother out?"

"Came to the wrong place, _brother_." He flung his hand up, waving him off. "Beat it, old man."

"Thought you'd say that. Execute, now." Gibbs ordered as he retrieved the pistol from his lower back and leveled it at the man. "NCIS. Hands where I can see them."

The mercenary ignored the order and as soon as he reached for his handgun, the Agent fired off a round.

On cue, Danny and Tori sprinted from the dunes behind him to his left and right. The Major headed straight for the crates. Danny sprinted for the SUV whilst the second assailant rushed from the entrance. Gibbs veered after Tori, double tapped him in the chest, and assumed position next to her.

Two hundred meters out, Alexia scoured the outer edges of the crater with her scope and fired. A lone gunman on the ridge behind the encampment tumbled head over heels. Came to a standstill in an inert heap at the bottom. After that, she fixed her rifle on the front entrance, both Gibbs and Danny in view, whereas Dekker held a steady eye on Tori.

Seven more remained, another few unaccounted for behind the ridge.

"Alpha one move to rear, we'll cover entrance." The Major instructed. "On my mark, turkey shoot, Sierra two."

"Roger that, Alpha two."

"On it, boss." Dekker complied.

"What?" Gibbs scowled, disliking the change in plans, but Tori brushed past him.

"I wouldn't stay there if I were you." She announced, seizing him by the jacket and towed him along.

One by one, M 14 EBR bullets pierced the air, smacking crates as they shredded their way through to the interior of the tent. Cries of pain filled the air, one attacker stumbling out only to run right into the butt-end of a M4 assault rifle.

"Oh, that's gotta hurt."

Sudden gunfire erupted from the rear. Danny and Alexia engaging retreating figures, while Tori signaled with a raised hand for Dekker to stop. Straightaway, the echoing thunderclaps subsided, and she signaled for Gibbs to breach. In tandem, they entered and found that most had left via the back entrance.

Hi-Tech equipment had shattered with the assault. Water bottles, papers, and chairs laid strewn over the tarp floor, while a table lay on its side for defensive purposes. Eating utensils rested in a heap where it had toppled from its surface. Whilst several cots and the SUVs dinted with holes from Dekker's turkey shooting. They moved through. Scanned every inch of the thirty-by thirty-meter area the men had called home for the last six weeks. Then exited to the sound of Alexia's rifle echoing in the valley.

Another scout took a tumble, landed in a heap off to the group's right.

"That's all of 'em." Danny said as he approached them. "Sierra's keeping an eye out for more."

"Short and . . ." Tori began, when a concealed attacker emerged from the sand, captured her from behind, jerked her away from the men. Then hauled her towards where the crates situated.

"Okay, buddy let's relax." She coaxed. "We're in no rush."

His grip tightened around the combat knife inches away from her throat. Shoved his handgun against her side. Danny and Gibbs followed them. The latter's pistol aimed at the assailant's head and glare cold and indifferent.

"Easy there." He voiced calm and collected. "Danny, tell him he's surrounded. He should lay down his weapons and surrender."

The Lt. Colonel obeyed relaying the statement in Aramaic. The man spat his disapproval and moved back with another few steps. The blade nicked her throat. Blood trickled from the cut. She stayed relaxed, breathing even and relayed with her eyes at her left hand. Gibbs marked her sheathed combat knife, nodded that he understood. To his left, Danny saw the exchange and raised his assault rifle.

"I have a shot." Dekker communicated. "I repeat: I have the tango in my sights."

"Stand down, Sierra two." Danny advised.

"One shot, it's all I need." Gibbs warned as he glared. "That's my final warning."

Danny translated and the man yelled out several furious sentences.

"It's you they want Agent Gibbs. Either you yield or she dies."

"That's it. I'm taking the shot." Dekker interjected.

"No!" Gibbs growled.

The bullet zipped through the air and tore through the man's ankle, his gun firing with the painful outcry. Tori slipped the knife from his hand, knelt down, and hurled him over her shoulder. Lastly, knocked him unconscious.

"You son of a . . . you had to go for his foot, really Dekker." She stayed in the bent position, breathing labored.

"What? It was the only clean shot available."

"Gibbs had it covered, he ordered you to stand down."

"Due respect, you ordered me to serve as your backup. That's what I did."

She toppled over onto her side. Gibbs knelt beside her and combed a hand over where the bullet had lodged in her vest. "Next time you decide to do something fly boy, listen first." He snarled as he assisted her in detaching the vest. Then breathed a heavy sigh when he saw blood stain her shirt.

"Your recklessness could've gotten her killed."

"I'm so- . . ."

"That's enough, Captain." Gibbs retrieved two photos from his inner jacket pocket, held it for Danny to take. "Get the survivors to identify who they're working for." The Lt. Colonel snatched it without a word and walked for the entrance. "Major Berth, those EMTs will do."

"Yes, Agent Gibbs. Already on their way."

He stood, held out a hand for Tori to take, and aided her to her feet in a gentle fashion. "Okay Major Hatcher?"

She nodded with a scowl. "I thought mothering was prohibited."

"I'm the boss; it comes with the territory." They shared a wry smile, although hers laced with anguish. "And. Not your mother."

Tori gripped her side as she stifled a laugh. Gibbs winced with the action. "Please, no jokes. Hurts."

"Duly noted." He said whilst his phone vibrated in his pocket. Next, indicated towards the oncoming ambulance. "You did good, Major. Now go."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Gibbs walked up to the ambulance. The scene a stunning Deja vu, although this time she observed his approach.

"What's news?" She asked in a cheerful tone.

"Nell, apparently." He pointed at him, face stoic, as he perceived the concern in the Medic's eyes.

"News?"

"Bruised rib, fortunate for a point blank."

"Vest saved the day." She crooned.

"Cut and bruise patched up, Agent Gibbs." He squeezed her shoulder. Gibbs frowned at the behavior, then something clicked and his expression relaxed. "She can go."

"Thanks Nell. Appreciated."

"No problem. Gotta go."

Both watched him take leave before Gibbs turned towards her. "We're done here. Plane leaves tonight."

"Why? We just took down a terrorist nest. We still need to match the missing pieces."

"Glad you think so." He commended with a chuffed grin. "Miguel and Nigel came forward, confessed to what they'd done. Swapped places, trafficked guns and recruited mercenaries to do their dirty work."

Her brow furrowed, somewhat disgruntled with the quick turnaround. "Convenient don't you think? Just as we round up their goons, they cough up their involvement."

"It's a strategic yield. We can do nothing about it."

"Wait a minute." Tori raised an eyebrow, dubious about his nonchalant attitude. "How did they know? Vance arranged it so that no one knew, except for us."

Gibbs shrugged feigning innocence. "Don't know."

"Nah, I'm not buying it this time." She chuckled, then stilled as the bruised area protested. "You definitely know. What did you do?"

"Nothing." He schooled an impassive expression, but she noticed the sly glint in his eyes and cuffed his shoulder.

"You suck at lying."

 _Yes, I agree, it's too straightforward, too precise and too convenient. I don't like coincidences, neither do I enjoy an abrupt ending to a case. Not if we had the goal line in sight._

 _They're guns for hire – to what end? For what purpose? Do they have more nests like this one? What's the target? Who is the target? Why the deception? Impersonation? So many unanswered questions and I'm ordered to stand down._

"Vance congratulated us for a job well done." Gibbs declared more so to convince himself. "We're done. He will take it from here."

Tori had noticed his mind churn. The reluctance to submit was clear on his face, but she nodded keeping her speculations to herself. Yes, it was an unexpected win, and now they were to go their separate ways. Gibbs to NCIS, and Tori and her team to the shadows where they would fade away like they never existed.


	11. Match Point

**Chapter 11** **:** **MATCH POINT**

 **WASHINGTON D.C., TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER**

"What are they doing up there?" McGee whispered from behind his desk. "The debriefing's over. Everything's back to normal."

Bishop's face revealed disbelief as she gazed at him. "They're taking . . . a _selfie_." He frowned at the notion. Her eyes returned to the duo conversing outside MTAC. "Oh, he's giving her his famous hug . . . and there you go. A kiss on the cheek."

"He never took to me this fast." Tim reported puzzled as he relaxed in his chair.

A wicked grin curved her lips. "Are you jealous?"

"No." He countered a tad offended by the remark. "It took him years to warm up to Tony. Kate a little less. Ziva and Abby were a different story. To me, he was tough but fair."

"Yeah, and I had to beg him to be Mr tough guy."

"I'm sure it's nothing earnest. A nice Gibbs typically entails . . ." Tim stopped as she ogled him to keep quiet.

Afterward, he heard the subtle thuds of his boss descending the stairs behind him and pretended to flip through a file. Ellie however, held her eyes on Gibbs until he halted before their bullpen's partition. Conscious of his presence, Tim shifted his gaze. Widened his eyes as Bishop stifled a chuckle and looked up at the man. A slow mischievous grin slinked across Gibbs' lips.

"Word to the wise, McGee. Next time change the subject, that way you don't have that caught out teenager look on your face."

"So that's how you caught Tony." Bishop pointed her pen at him. "Written all over his face, literally."

Gibbs smirked. Entered the bullpen with something outlandish dangling from his right hand, and took a seat at his desk. Both his Agents gazed with puzzling expressions, Tim the one to inquire.

"Is that a bat, boss? It looks used."

The older Agent scratched his chin, eyes gleaming with cynicism as they settled on McGee.

"I'm so glad I've got you to point out the obvious."

"It's a cricket bat, mate." Clayton's head popped up from the panel behind Gibbs. "Admired, chic game in England."

"Thought it was Polo." Tim said with a dubious look.

"Nah, I heard it's tennis." Bishop corrected.

"Football." Gibbs inserted from the side.

"They don't have football in England." Tim revised.

"Not American Football, Agent McGee. _Soccer_." Clayton said as he disappeared from view.

"Cricket's fourth on the list." Gibbs lifted the bat for them to see.

Its face spotted red dints were it had staved off countless of bowler attacks. Blistered cracks had split their way from its tip towards its center, whilst its grip exhibited remodeling. Altogether, it presented a classy game of war at work forty years ago.

He continued. "If you're so curious to know, it's an old-fashioned, worn, and priceless antique from her father's collection."

Bishop shielded her face with a hand and whispered to McGee. "More like a metaphor for Gibbs."

Tim shook his head in warning, while the older Agent concluded his perusal. "A beautiful piece of craftsmanship. One of a kind exclusively made by her father."

His gaze flitted between their innocent expressions before he glared at Ellie. Her face fell, whereas his perked up. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"So I heard the trip was a success, Gibbs. Confusing start, but a comfortable finish." McGee offered as a subject change.

"Yeah, you could say that." His eyes lifted as Tori bounded down the stairs and walked for their section. "Eye opening, too."

A radiant smile lit up her face, waving a bandaged hand as she walked by the bullpen. "Cheers Agent Gibbs. See ya around."

Forthright, he raised a hand in the air. Tim and Ellie gazing quite bewildered by his cheerful appearance.

"Au Revoir mon chéri." He called after her.

"Looks like she made an impression." Ellie stated from the side, then raised an eyebrow at him. "Should we be expecting another addition to NCIS any time soon?"

"She's spoken for, Bishop." He straightened his back, peering over the divider to where the Major stood at the elevator. His eyes softened. "She can do more for her country where she's at than what she could from here. Don't envy her either."

Tori entered the elevator, turned in time to witness him gazing at her. She offered a sloppy salute before the doors closed. Gibbs snorted, shook his head, and opened the report on his desk.

"I knew it." Bishop exclaimed delighted, next, beckoned at Tim. "Own up."

"DOD." He quarreled in swift fashion.

Her eyebrow raised once more, challenging his refute. "NSA."

"DIA."

"CIA."

"NGA."

"FBI."

McGee flipped his hands up, thinking it ridiculous. "C'mon, you know only Fornell fits the bill."

"MI6." Clayton supplied from his side.

Bishop's face lit up. "Oh, that's interesting, very interesting. I say Russian Intelligence."

"How about Secret Service?" Tim questioned his face revealing a subtle craftiness.

"How about I say it, then I'd have to shoot you. All of you." Gibbs declared as a delicate threat. "At least it will be quiet around here."

They gazed at one another, Clayton shrinking back down to his desk slowly and silently. McGee's chin drooped, finding the file a lot more interesting than before. Ellie shrugged. Her eyes scanning the information on her laptop as if it were the most fascinating piece she has read to date.

Gibbs raised his chin, smile devious as he scanned the bullpen. Familiar orange walls. Usual playful bantering Agents. The same routine. It was good to be back.

 _Back to normal._ It felt earnest, refreshing, and yet something still nagged at his instincts. Still tugged at his gut feeling. He scowled at no one in particular, shrugged one shoulder, and set his sights on Tori's report.

They settled the case. Exposed a terrorist cell. Both perpetrators confessed their transgressions. His instincts had been right, and Tori had gained valuable lessons about investigating. From him of all people. He'd met honest folks, and hopefully gained new friends and reliable sources. They'd exposed a bad apple in NCIS – Derringer was behind bars. After a short meaningful lecture from yours truly, the Director capitulated. Gave his stamp of approval, and promised future collaboration with Major Hatcher and her knights.

Gibbs smiled at the prospect, what it had taken to gain their trust and vice versa. An eye opening experience indeed, but now it was time to let go and move on. Like he'd done with countless of cases before. Albeit unforeseen and uncomplicated at the end, it was still a victory. Victories were good.

 _That's it, convince yourself, Gibbs ol' boy; perhaps you'll believe it. Eventually._

A yellow post-it note captured his attention. He froze, eyes scanning the writing repeatedly until he heard McGee clear his throat beside him. He snapped it shut as if caught out for sneaking a quick look at an answer sheet. He raised his gaze up to the taller man and narrowed his eyes.

"Reason you're in my space, McGee?"

"Navy Lieutenant killed in a drive by shooting."

"Then why are you still standing here? Grab your gear and let's go."

Gibbs turned in his chair. Slipped the report in the same drawer where he grabbed his badge and service weapon. Stood to his feet and motioned at the empty desk across from his.

"Where's Torres?"

"Umm, it was his turn to buy lunch." Bishop relayed. "I'll redirect him to the crime scene."

"Good." He took lead, mind reeling over the message Tori had given him. Commented over his shoulder when he reached the elevator in their stead. "What are you waiting for?"

"Yeah, who was the one that said we missed him?" Bishop quipped as McGee fell in with her stride.

* * *

Seven days later, he followed the path to his front door and bounded up the stairs, ready for a peaceful evening. Instead, stopped on the middle step, eyes narrowed at the dark slit next to the door frame. His eyes studied the surroundings as he seized his gun and walked up to the door, inaudibly.

" _There's more to this case, and you know it."_ Tori's note came to mind. _"P.S. Watch your six."_

Above the knob sat a bloody hand print. Its size and angle eliminating the Major from the onset, as it was seemingly male. He halted, snaked the weapon forward and slid the door open.

His home was dark, light from the street lamps casting silhouettes through the windows. No sounds came from upstairs. None from the lower level either, but still he sensed another presence. There were the cupboard next to the staircase, the living room, kitchen, and basement. The former as hiding place was a no good, leaving him with three other options.

He snuck left, then forward to the kitchen. Came to a standstill, straightened in posture. He canted his head to the side, brow furrowed bewildered and astounded at the familiar person sitting at the table _._

 _Danny?_

* * *

 _TO BE CONTINUED_


	12. Fractured

Thank you to the followers, reviewers and those who liked the story thus far. Much apprrciated. I hope the rest of the story makes for a compelling read.

It will come in short bursts though, and not at once as the first part did. Even so, by all means, enjoy.

Regards, Innovare

* * *

 **PART TWO**

* * *

 **Chapter 12** : **FRACTURED**

 **SEVENS DAYS BEFORE**

Casey Derringer stood before the mirror, gazing tentatively at his reflection. It was as if an unrecognizable man was looking at him, when it was only an image obscured by the shower's condensation.

Frankly, years of enduring, running and surviving the treacherous environment termed as swindling, it left a scarred impression on his façade. His heart marred by the cruel truth – _when you've been operating in the dark for so long, it becomes a part of you. You are darkness – black and contorted._ Sad statements he had to drill into his mind until it seared like the branding of cattle on his conscience.

His hand extended towards the reflecting glass, brown eyes boring those that stared back.

"I'm a mirror that must hold on to its identity. I shouldn't find comfort in the reflection of someone else's life."

He wished he could believe his own words as his profession demanded he be the opposite. A world tainted by what his demands wanted in the heat of the moment. A chameleon blending in with its environment, it was impossible to discern reality from deception. This was Steven, Nicholas, and Aubrey – whomever suited the assignment. He had to imitate a persona so beautifully, so poetically truthful. It wouldn't only persuade others to believe, but it would sway him in to believing its true. This was the distorted man staring back at him. A looking glass revealing only candour – an identity, qualities and beliefs.

Even so, Casey saw a hollow shell waiting patiently for his enemy to supply the next set of instructions.

The notion elicited an adrenaline rush that coursed through his veins at an alarming rate. Casey would be no longer, and the following identity would be shrugged into as if a dinner jacket. Heart pounding like a hammer, a devious smile twisted his lips, for he felt like a kid in a candy store. There he could choose to his heart's content without paying a cent, and walk out smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Until his father's distant voice reverberated in his mind and shattered his reverie. _This is no game lad. You're playing with people's lives, playing them like fools so that your lust can be satisfied. You would've made an excellent actor, a writer even. Instead, you preferred real life to re-enact your fantasies, but beneath the smoke and mirrors, you are a ruthless trickster._

 _You are defrauding innocent people, stealing their lives without blinking an eye. It's like an addiction to you. You don't care who or what you destroy. Just so long as you satisfy your hunger and thirst for pleasure, money, and the conniving delight that you've outsmarted the pathetic idiots who fell for your act._

 _How do you live with yourself? My son has joined the wrong side. You are a disgrace, a grim reminder of where I'd gone wrong. Get out of my sight! I don't recognize who you are anymore._

Remorseful, Casey averted his gaze, uninterested with the man in the mirror. He'd enjoyed a precarious life, filled with action and thrills no movie could portray. But this man, he was a simpleton. A certainty although terrifying, binding his true nature more than setting him free. The man staring back was the fiction story he was reality.

" _You are darkness he is light."_

Fear rippled through his muscles suppressing the adrenaline rush. He glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing new. A bout of gooseflesh rippled over his arms, proceeded to cascade over his body, and left a slight tremble in its wake. His eyes blinked in astonishment, mind trying to comprehend the phenomenon.

"What?"

" _Bothered my dear man?"_

"A little alarming is all."

" _I left, because you forgot. It's that easy, so natural."_ The disembodied voice paused in a dramatic fashion. Then its following words echoed deviously low. _"Normally, you can't wait for me to fade into the darkness."_

"Normally, you obey my commands."

" _It's different this time. We both know how quick you absorb your new character; you don't need reminding. Who is Casey anyways?"_

"You sound certain of yourself, egotistical not to mention a little untroubled. You are who I say you are."

" _No! I do the reflecting. Does it ring a bell? Don't get the two confused. I am you!"_

"I am who I choose to be. You are nothing, nothing but a hollow shell."

" _And whose fault is it? Am I not good enough anymore? Too muscular; too obnoxious, too vile for your liking? No wonder I've chosen to abandon you. Why others have chosen to forget your world."_

Silence settled in as Casey glared at the mirror. His countenance blurred as if he was staring through a grimy window at a dark unclear woodland. Even imagined how fowl creatures lurked back at him. Those beady red eyes scrutinizing, delving deep within his soul. He couldn't help how his mind, his imagination shaped his utopia, his life. Who was Casey? He was a blank canvas, the names characters and the portrayals his own creations.

" _You have isolated me in the obscure recesses of your mind, Casey. It's your fault that I have melted away."_

"You ain't me!"

" _I wonder what your father . . ."_

"How dare you mention that old man! He abandoned me just like my mother did."

" _And this is how you deal with your past? Running from identity to identity?"_

"What do you care? You're a figment of my imagination."

" _I pity you my friend. You are so lost. You scarcely remember who you truly are."_

" _Who_ are _you_ really? I deceive people for a living. I cater according to their heart's desire, 'cause that's what my parents did. Swindled me into believing I could have the world as my oyster. That giant, juicy oyster murdered my mother and left my dad on an ash heap. Left me in the dirt. This is my redemption. Robbing people of their futures. Observing how my baited traps lured them like a moth to a flame, and then I revel in their misgivings. They think they are immune, but even the smart ones stumble, even they fall for the ruse. No one is safe. No one's truly protected. That's what makes this game so exhilarating. People are so desperate; they'll do anything to feed their families. What I have to offer – it's like honey. Now why would I give it up? Because my past life disagrees with this lifestyle?"

" _Don't lecture me. Don't patronize me either. If someone knows what you've been through, it's me. I may be intangible, but I've held on to the real you. You are the one who's changed colours so many times, that you've lost sight of what it's like to live an ordinary life. You are the enemy I am the prisoner."_

"Shut up!" He called out furious.

His balled up fist glided through the air, hitting the mirror with a loud thwack. Shards of glass crumbled underneath the impact. Some fell into the washbasin; some smaller ones embedded themselves in his knuckles and fingers. Anger surged like torrents through his body. Muscles trembling with the sudden outburst, then everything became distant. Ragged breathing the only recognizable thing.

The bathroom felt as if within a vacuum pull, and his vision appeared as if sucked into a vortex. For a slow panic consumed every fibre of his being and it paralysed his resolve.

This had never been a problem.

His world felt like it was crumbling to pieces, fractured by one moment of hesitation. A slither of doubt had slipped through and now the truth, the real Casey was fighting to stay afloat. Struggling against the waves of identity that threatened to override it forever.

"I am a dreamer." It was obscure, but its tone slithered through his sphere like a hot knife through butter. "I am an artist."

The words repeated themselves, reminding him of his childhood. A time when he'd been exuberant, hopeful, and passionate. Disregarding it, he washed the glass from his injured hand, untroubled as stabbing pain ran along his forearm. He grabbed for the hand towel, turned his back on the mirror, strolled from the dimly lit bathroom into the spacious suite. Its cool temperature washed over him as if a subtle morning dew, eliciting a fresh bout of gooseflesh.

He felt weak. Drained from the internal debate. Haunted by the faceless voice. Afraid of its implications.

His old self desired a unique world. One where life revolved around the joys of living, sharing experiences with the people he loved most. It painted a lovely picture full of vivacity and heart-warming sentiments. Nevertheless, it wasn't enough to secure him and convince him to stay the course. It rather forced him away, and as a result, caused his life to revolve around the pleasure of fooling people into admiring him. Depicting an image they loved. Enticing them, so that he could take what they loved most and wring the life from it until nothing but despair remained.

He unhooked the pressed shirt from the hanger. Shrugged into it. Looped the buttons through their matching holes. Adjusted the collar without bothering to check if it was neat. A black tie followed in its wake, but he forestalled when his eyes glimpsed the broken bathroom mirror.

Anxiety seized his emotions like a lion its prey and held on until his gaze averted. What remained of the mirror reflected a fractured version of himself; an image absent a moment ago.

Realization dawned like the sun in his mind and for the first time since the start of his profession, it bothered him.

" _You're alone Casey. You may have everything, but really, you have nothing, except a heart full of grief, hatred and arrogance."_

"What do you suggest I do? It isn't easy to walk away from something like this. They know who I am and will find me. You know what will happen if they do."

" _Do you not know the art of the con?"_

"What are you insinuating?"

" _Disappear; start over. Rewind the clock so to speak and live the life you've always wanted."_

"Dreams as a child don't mean they'll come true. They're unrealistic, and my sphere of influence doesn't allow for a certain _spontaneity_."

Nervous laughter rattled in his chest as he discarded the tie and finished with the rest of his attire. After that, he zipped up his overnight duffel and hesitated. Thoughts mulled over the possibilities of not catching the flight.

Vanishing wouldn't be a problem, but the consequences would be. As this sort of business didn't call for deserters. His eyes inspected the room once more, examined each detail meticulously for any irregularities, anything that could lead back to Casey Derringer.

Satisfied with its cleanliness, he moved towards the door. His slender fingers curled around the knob. The door released with a faint click, when the voice spoke.

" _What happens on the day when they discover your scheme?"_

"When it's your time, it's your time." He replied nonchalantly.

" _Arrogance will only get you so far, but when reality strikes, and it will, nobody will bail you out."_

"Is this a sad attempt at one last plea, Casey?"

" _Do you truly think you can keep this up forever? He will find you. He wasn't fooled by you."_

A devious smile quirked his lips whilst the door closed in a soft click.

"Maybe." He entered the corridor, then whispered under his breath when he hailed for the elevator. "Maybe not, but . . . life's always been a gamble. I'll take my chances."


	13. Clash of Blades

**Chapter 13:** **CLASH OF BLADES**

 **FOUR DAYS AFTERWARD**

His eyes flitted between the diverse dining crowds before it came to rest on the entrance. A slender blond in a snug velvet dress spoke to the host, olive green eyes scanning the crowd before she found her target. Hiding a curl behind her ear, she approached his table, the waiter holding out the chair for her.

"Mr Davenport." Jeandré greeted firmly, scrutinizing his sleek appearance.

"And I have this pleasure? You know lawyers aren't my forte, Ms Tait."

She smiled as she gestured to the waiter. "A bottle of your finest red wine. I'll signal for it, thank you."

He curtsied and retreated. "As you wish, Ma'am."

"I'll cut to the chase, Mr Davenport."

"Oh how disappointing." Aubrey teased. "I was looking forward to the small talk."

Jeandré ignored the charming smile he sent her way and got straight to the point.

"My clients have agreed to the impersonating charges, but will not plead guilty to the hauling of a certain _merchandise_." She leaned forward, devious grin curving her lips. "Seems someone showed them the costs of doing business with you. And now they're willing to confess as such."

Aubrey leaned closer, mirroring her scheming countenance. "Do me a favour, Ms Tait. Place your hand beneath the table."

"What?" She countered taken aback. "Certainly not."

Their glasses rung out as he thudded it faintly from underneath and urged. "I think you should."

Jeandré swallowed, slid a hand along, then stopped as it came to rest on a Magnum revolver. She gasped, recoiling with the deed.

Aubrey's smile widened, relishing the reaction. "Never underestimate the finer things in life, especially if they exhibit the tendency of turning lethal." His other hand extended towards hers, brushed soothingly over her knuckles. "I've been at this for a while, Ms Tait. I've come to observe what's precious in life."

Canting his head, he took hold of her hand, tender but a little firm for her liking. She pulled back. He held it in place without alerting those who enjoyed their evening to their conversation.

"Take their livelihood; they'll find another mode of income. Take their spouse; they'll mourn the loss, and for the children's sake, will push through 'til they learn to live with the heartache. Take their children; the couple separate or start another family whichever way they can; some never do. Take everything at once. Like a snap of the finger, they'll crash, mourn and restore their life one stage at a time. Some experience the crack, but never recover; gradually they disintegrate until there's nothing left. Others follow the direct route, stop living altogether."

He leaned over the table, placed his lips beside her ear. Jeandré shuddered at the close proximity, confidence dwindling in the low.

"They should be thankful I asked for their livelihood Ms Tait and not their lives. Privileged that I had requested for so little a sacrifice. 'Cause with the snap of my finger, they could've lost everything."

She felt his lips brush against her cheek before moving on to coax her lips ever so delicately. He withdrew but still lingered in her personal space, then discreetly slipped the small handgun back into his ankle holster.

"That's how you threaten people, Jeandré." He whispered inches away. "Your mistake will cost you dearly; you influenced my followers."

"Your dinner is ready, Sir." The waiter interrupted, to her relief.

"I am so sorry, Theodore, but please send it up to my suite."

Aubrey placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and stood to his feet. He stepped up to the waiter, slipped a hundred-dollar bill into his pocket, and whispered an instruction in his ear before turning to face his guest.

Her fingers traced her lips, expression bewildered as she stared ahead. Impressed by his effect on her, he placed his arm around the waiter's shoulder and smiled his most charming smile.

"I believe that's the signal, Teddy. Put the wine and dinner on my tab."

"Oh, you know how to swoon the women, Mr Davenport." He praised. "A lovely wine for a lovely lady."

At the mention, Jeandré blinked from the trance, lifted her gaze to nod her approval.

Aubrey tapped him on the chest. "Take good care of her, Teddy." Then turned to her and curtsied casually. "Have a pleasant evening Ms Tait."


	14. The Feint

**Chapter 14** **:** **THE FEINT**

 **FOLLOWING DAY**

The door to Vance's office swung wide open, jolting him from the document he was browsing. His eyes shifted to the plasma screen mounted on the wall before Gibbs appeared in his view. He had to admit, the familiar barging in had mellowed over the years of their acquaintance. Why he bothered keeping it shut remained a mystery. Perhaps, an announced entrance boded for a less delicate, furtive advance the Agent was so renowned for.

"I'll go out on a limb and say you watched the news this morning." Vance replied in a casual tone.

"Hard not to, Leon." Gibbs jabbed his finger at the monitor. "And when were you gonna inform me?"

"Last time I checked, it's no longer our concern."

"It is our concern when the lawyer of two of our suspects is dead. In Norfolk of all places."

"You did your part, Gibbs." Vance reminded him as he gathered the documents into a pile. "It's not your case."

"It should be. Her death could've been prevented. Clearly, we're still missing something. It's our job to finish it, properly."

The last statement gave him pause. He shifted his gaze to the veteran, raised an eyebrow. "Our? Am I to suspect that you've kept in touch with a certain Major? That you've been monitoring an ongoing investigation from the sideline."

"No."

Gibbs feigned innocence, but Vance discerned the ploy. He wasn't lying and yet he wasn't truthful either; deciding which one – therein lay the rub.

"Hmm, it wouldn't amaze me. The two of were cozy when you got back from Yuma."

The Agent drilled him with a 'you're kidding' expression. Vance gave him a complacent grin, something he returned with a shrug of his shoulder. Subsequently, it wasn't Major Hatcher, then it had to be one of the other Agencies involved with the investigation.

"Fornell then? ATF perhaps."

Laughter erupted from the Agent portraying what he thought about the remarks. Vance knew better, and he did because he joined the man in chuckling.

"No, I didn't think so. Your methods leave much to be desired. And why should I be surprised? You've used this Agency to accommodate your cases, more so than what the other Agents would even dare."

"Ah please." Gibbs gave him a terse gesture. "Like you haven't done the same thing, Leon. You know who should be leading this case."

"As I recall, you wanted no part in it." Vance stood to his feet, noting the famous glint in the veteran's eyes. "I should've known your entrance had merit. Instinct or experience?"

Gibbs canted his head. "Little of both."

"You're hesitating." Vance raised an eyebrow, bewildered by the man's dubious countenance. "Why? Hesitance is the by-product of error. You know what the consequences are on the front-line."

"You're lecturing me, Leon?" Gibbs smirked at the irony. "It's something the Major brought to my attention. The strong survive and the weak are rejected."

"Yes, I'm familiar with the perspective."

"And in order to see what's hidden behind a facade, one had to break through until one got to the core. Even a hairline fracture would be enough to determine the person's motive."

"Go on."

"Miguel and Nigel revealed their hand, Leon. They showed us what they had done to shield the kingpin. When what they really are, are just cogs in a much larger machine. Glue to fill the cracks."

"Hence they're weak links cast aside; diversions in this case. So that he can do what exactly?"

"Who says it's a he? Considering what they did, it could be a woman."

"Interesting thought."

"Which is what it will stay unless we get certainty, proof that the theory's correct."

"And thus the hesitance." Vance came about and stood before his best Agent. "What part of your gut do you trust on this, Gibbs?"

"The part a certain Major confirmed before she left the other day. That and her unusual perception of people."

He nodded his accord. Voiced his assessment of her. "She perceives the outcome before she has concrete evidence. Since she's so focused on the small frame, from time to time it makes her blind. She forgets the bigger picture."

Gibbs smirked, wondering how long Vance had known of the weakness. He dipped his chin, but then raised a forefinger and eyebrow.

"It's in her story, Leon."

He lowered the hand and his gaze became far-off as he mulled deeply.

"She discovered the old man's sleight of hand by observing his gambit from a distance." He walked past him to the door, realizing what bothered him since arrival from Arizona. "Dammit, all this time she'd had the whole picture in view. It makes her a threat."

"It also makes her a target." Vance concluded as the veteran exited his office.

He returned to his chair, took a seat with a pensive expression. It had been an enlightening discussion. What Gibbs planned or was planning to do remained a riddle and it set him on edge. Since what followed next, feasibly veered into two directions – havoc or elusiveness. He had the funny notion he needed to envision both of those occurring simultaneously.

Vance grabbed his smart-phone, dialed a number, and waited for the individual to answer. "Yes, he's taken the bait. Be careful."


	15. Disengage

**Chapter 15: D** **ISENGAGE**

"Jeandré, you were young, beautiful, and accomplished. Only to be discarded like a ragged, insignificant piece of fabric. How do these foul monstrosity's sleep at night?"

"Only asking that now, Duck?" Gibbs asked as he entered autopsy. "What do ya got?" He walked up to the English gentleman where he sat at his desk.

"A medical report for a Ms Jeandré Tait, I believe."

"Yes and." He rolled his wrist at his friend.

"Jethro you can't expect me to have something on such short notice. I barely had time to glance at the photos."

"Had a read through?" He raised his eyebrow in a cocky manner.

"Skimmed it of course, but it's still not enough time to process the information."

Ducky paused when Gibbs breathed an irritated sigh. He gazed up at his friend, reading the micro expressions on his face.

"I must say you're rather adamant over a civilian homicide. Any connection to your present case? Or is this a favor prompted by your legendary gut?"

He ignored the prying and gestured at the folder. "How did she die, Ducky?"

"She was poisoned. A toxin Abby's currently analyzing upstairs, including further evidence found with the body. All I can do for you at present is speculate."

"No one's stopping you." Gibbs insisted. "I'm not greedy."

"I believe the poison was administered at dinner. Side effects were slow, enough so that it occurred five hours after she'd ingested it. No trace of the suspect's DNA, fingerprints or that she had been moved afterward."

"How did she end up four hours away from her apartment?"

"It's possible that the toxin has delusional tendencies."

"Even delusions have a purpose, Doc." Gibbs stared at the ceiling, then began to pace about. "No, I think she discovered something and whatever it was pointed to Norfolk. Our perpetrator predicted it and the toxin buried the lead."

Ducky trailed his movement, noting the apprehension in his posture. "Whoever did this wanted her to suffer. Punish her for interfering in his or her business."

"From what you've gathered, do you think it's a man or a woman?"

"As you know, poison is usually a preferred tool used by a woman. Nevertheless, it lacks patience and yet it has the marks of careful planning. The offender left enough to entice, but nothing concrete that would lead directly to him or her. Ms Tait was a threat to the endgame and like a threat she was dealt with."

"Callous, calculated and subtle." Gibbs halted, eyes drilling the table before they shifted towards him. "She didn't have to die, Ducky."

"No one does, Jethro."

The elder gentleman swiveled the chair towards the Agent. Scrutinized his void countenance, knowing what truly hid behind the front.

"I surmise from your reaction you feel responsible, which begs to mind an obvious question. Is this personal or professional?"

The inquiry stirred anger, disappointment in his emotions. He went back to pacing whilst choosing his words wisely. Ducky tended to draw out unwanted declarations. Even so, it helped him to think objectively about his motives and helped him to order possible irrational reactions. In the end, it gave clarity.

"It became personal the day a former case followed me back to D.C. The signs were there and I dismissed it." He pointed at Ducky on the turnabout. "And it's not the first time."

"You would have to be specific, Jethro. We've had numerous cases where the accused was the least likely one to have committed the murder."

Gibbs stopped at that, chuckling as he shook his head. "Dang, she's crafty."

The M.E. scowled at the sudden change in subject. "I'm not following."

"She played me. _Again."_

"Who dares deceive the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs? And twice in a row."

Glaring at the man's wry statements, Gibbs explained. "Back in Yuma, the Major had mirrored my behavior to conceal her true identity. I couldn't read her, which forced me to act upon what her file described. Even that was a smokescreen. I just couldn't see it, couldn't confirm what I was discerning. I resorted to interrogation tactics, wanted to rattle her confidence and instead she taunted me into cracking my mask."

"Fracturing her smokescreen in the process." Ducky surmised.

"That's just it. If it weren't for the qualities her father had instilled in her, I would've been the broken one. If she hadn't challenged me, forced a confession at that moment of conflict, I would've never discovered the truth."

"Like a pin drop, it became clear." He nodded. "Any connection to this revelation?"

The Agent narrowed his eyes as he mused aloud. "What if it was her way of preparing me? I know there's more to it than impersonation and gun trafficking. She knows it, too."

"However, there are no hints to follow. No road signs directing you towards the person responsible for your doubt. You can't go it by instinct alone, you need facts."

"I feel like I'm hitting air. Like I'm being taunted by a ghost who knows I'm in limbo. And you know a bloodhound needs a scent to track."

They shared a momentary comical smirk before Ducky stated. "Whatever it is, I can see that it's consuming you, Jethro. And it seems as if this Major is the answer to your frustration."

"If it were that simple Ducky, I would've kicked down her front door by now." He walked for the exit, flicking a hand in the air as thanks and concluded drolly. "Still need to find the damn thing."

The M.E. shared the amusement, glad he could lend an ear as well as a helping hand. It wasn't much, but to Jethro it seemed as if he'd found a tad more clarification on a complex subject. He heard the bell of the elevator sound off, then the familiar monotone ring of Gibbs' phone followed by the infamous brusque reply.

"What? When?" The doors closed behind the Agent, while he suppressed the urge to kick at the wall.

"How the hell is that possible? I escorted him myself; double-checked that he was behind bars when I'd left."

"I don't know Agent Gibbs, but the individual we have in custody is not the man you arrested. He claims to have been influenced into aiding a friend impersonate a federal agent."

"Now why does that sound familiar." Gibbs quipped sarcastically.

"He has proof." The man whined.

 _No, what he has is another crumb. It's a ruse. The key player is distracting me. He wants to disengage my focus, to fuel my doubt instead. Keep me running in circles while he devours his next victim and spits them out for me to find._

"I don't care if he has proof that he's the queen of England. Impersonating a NCIS agent is still a federal offense. So is aiding and abetting a criminal. He stays where he is."

Gibbs flipped the phone shut, hit the emergency stop, and leaned his forehead against the wall. A familiar emotion surfaced, the same one Tori had elicited at the cabin. He felt like a cornered animal, squeezed into a mold created by someone who ruled the pursuit.

His mind was quicksand. Drowning him in conflicting theories, eliciting that rage he was known for when he couldn't find the solution. This time, there was no one to confront him, no one to force the answer to the surface.

 _Why did you pick me? Why me? I can't shoot what I can't see. You know the art of the con and it paints a target on your back. Who is the kingpin, Tori? Whom am I supposed to be chasing here?_

Riled, he slammed a fist against the wall.

 _Dammit, this is driving me nuts. It's affecting my work and I hate to be dependent on someone else to solve my problem._

 _Where the hell are you?_

' _Cause I'm done! The game is over._


	16. Voiding

**Chapter 16:** **VOIDING**

 **PRESENT DAY**

He followed the path up to his front door. Bounded the stairs ready for a peaceful evening, and then stopped on the middle step. His eyes narrowed at the dark slit next to the door frame, next scanned the surroundings as he grabbed his gun and walked up to the door. Above the knob sat a bloody hand print, its size and angle eliminating the Major from the onset.

He halted, snaked the weapon forward and slid the door open. His home was dark, light from the streetlamps casting silhouettes through the windows. No sounds came from upstairs, none from the lower level either, but still he sensed another presence. Wary, he stalked left, forward to the kitchen, then came to a standstill and straightened in posture.

"Danny." He called as he rushed for him, grabbing hold of his sagging body as he fell sideways.

Gibbs lowered him to the floor, seized a hand towel from the kitchen basin, and placed it on his stomach to stem the bleeding. Fumbled for his phone and flipped it open to dial, but the Lt. Colonel stopped him.

"I can't risk being seen. The knife missed vitals. All I need is disinfectant and something to wrap it after I'm done."

"Yeah sure, how about thread and a needle to stitch it up while I'm at it." Gibbs remarked, but the soldier glared at him, his countenance pale in the dim gleam.

He stood to his feet and headed for the cupboard next to the refrigerator. "No disinfectant, but I have bourbon. Gonna hurt like hell though."

Suppressed laughter echoed in the kitchen as the Agent retrieved the bottle from its hiding place, and snatched a few towels from a drawer. Knelt beside Danny, preventing him from sitting upright.

He'd had his fair share of injuries during his Corps years, not to mention his years as a Special Agent. He should know how to patch up a stab wound.

"What happened to Colorado Springs?" Gibbs asked on purpose, drawing his attention away from what he was about to do.

"Detour."

"Well, you're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

Danny snickered at the famous movie quote, which turned into an excruciating growl as the alcohol coursed over the wound. The veteran winced with the reaction, cleaned the laceration, with focus steady on the task.

"Y-y-you were mistaken, Gibbs." He breathed a few times regulating with the burning discomfort. "That hurt like a freakin' shotgun blast to the chest."

Both men shared a terse chuckle before the veteran finished up with the bandaging. After that, he helped him over to the couch in the living room, took a step back and absorbed the event thoroughly.

"How did you end up here?" Gibbs asked while the Lt. Colonel laid down. "Let me rephrase that. You know where I live?"

"Classified information has its perks."

"I ain't part of the Air Force."

"We were Air Force?" Danny queried deadpan.

Gibbs stroked a hand over his hair, then took a seat on the sofa across from him.

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm mistaken. I didn't just patch up an Air Force soldier in my kitchen." He gestured vaguely. "Memory's shot."

Silence settled in. Gibbs found he lacked strength to badger the man or debate for that matter. Rather, vacated the sofa, fetched two mugs and the bourbon and returned. Danny would speak. His silent treatment would work. And he would have the truth before midnight. Confidence had not once failed him, it wouldn't tonight. The injury would see to it and so would the distraught countenance he'd shown upon arrival.

Auburn liquid poured into their separate mugs. The veteran shoved it over the coffee table towards Danny. Relaxed in his seat and took a hefty sip, enjoyed the quiet minutes that ticked by, until his guest snapped his fingers to draw his attention. His hands moved fluently, signing the possibility of surveillance.

Gibbs scowled impressed than bewildered the soldier knew sign language. He answered that he understood, but still wanted him to speak out loud for the sake of appearances. Danny nodded, sat upright groaning as he did so.

"I wasn't the only one shadowing you. Learned it the hard way."

He shook his head not loving the idea of a tail, or the fact that he'd missed both of them. "Did you see the attacker?"

"Nope, from the darkness he came, to the darkness he returned."

"I'll need your clothes for analyses. Forensics will find him."

"Wore gloves. Never came close enough to leave traces behind. Whoever he was, knew the import of forensics."

"Related to the Major?" Gibbs murmured, then his face fell into a hostile glare. "You will give it nonetheless." The man nodded dutiful. "Where did it happen?"

"You must really love that diner, 'cause you've frequented it more than what I do the gym."

Gibbs signed something offense.

Danny grinned waywardly. "Coffee sucks." That earned him a couple of inaudible curses. "Service is great though."

A droll smirk quirked the veteran's lips. "Anything suspicious?"

"Besides the unorthodox attack?"

"Humor me, Danny." He urged with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"It was just that, Gibbs, unorthodox and deliberate. Instead of keeping the fact that someone followed you to himself, it felt like I had provoked him. I mean, I did my job, kept to the shadows and kept my eye on you. How on earth he spotted me, leaves a gaping hole." He gestured at his stomach. "Quite literally."

He placed a hand to his forehead, swallowed the knot in his throat. Gibbs noted the change in behavior instantly and understood why the soldier had been so distraught earlier.

"You're a soldier trained for reconnaissance. It's your forte, your comfort zone and now someone dented that proficiency."

"You don't get it, Gibbs." Danny snarled. "He used my training against me. I could see it in his eyes — he sought my death vigorously. Shit, I don't even freakin' know how I got out unscathed."

"I wouldn't say . . ." Gibbs countered, pointing at the wound.

"This is unscathed in my books." His face went a light shade of red. "C'mon, I didn't even manage to enter his space, neither did he mine and look where it got me."

"Yeah, why my kitchen again?" He asked cynically.

Danny glared at him, signed his reply vividly. Gibbs chuckled under his breath and thanked him for the dramatic description.

"Don't beat yourself up Danny boy. Gets you nowhere; promise. It's cat and mouse. You're merely another crumb left for me to nibble on."

"I thought mice liked cheese." The Lt. Colonel corrected in jest.

"This one likes steak, corn and bread." He stood to his feet and walked for the fireplace. "Does the crumb want in? Or out? Either way, the discussion's not over yet."

* * *

"Why the tail?" The Agent inquired after their meal.

" _You know I can't disclose classified info."_ Danny signed with an agitated expression.

" _Give him information that we can use to our advantage. Change the game, Colonel."_

" _You're risking months of hard work to make up for your inadequacies."_

That remark gave the veteran pause, resentment flitting over his countenance. He refuted with one just as venomous.

 _"Tori's fault. She chose the wrong team to back her up."_

" _I am here because of her."_ He signed briskly, then further stated audibly. "Don't get the two confused."

"You are pecking the wrong side of the bait, Colonel. The Major chose me. And it ain't willingly. From both sides. Honestly, it's a game I hate playing."

" _We're tasked to find this bastard, put him where he belongs, and return to the lives we chose to offer for this country._ Duty bound, Special Agent Gibbs, that's why we were chosen. You're merely a reserve player in their match." He argued in return.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, celebrating his victory internally. Finally, his deliberate insults had earned him a piece to the puzzle.

He signed his reply. _"Their? How long has she been at this?"_

"Longer than permitted." Danny relented, knowing the veteran had tricked him. _"A shell game that's spanned from her Special Ops days, and now you're a shell yourself; a pawn to be moved wherever the player desires."_

"It's strange coming from me, but it's more than that. _I am a diversion. He's attention is directed at me, not on her._ It took me a while to figure it out and wasted countless hours to get there. _Fishing_."

"Come again?"

The Lt. Colonel scowled, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He laughed at the stunned expression on the younger man's face, then explained.

"Takes patience, practice, skill and unique bait to reel in the fish. Can't just cast the line, hoping you'll walk away with the catch of the day. Nah, for every fish there's a method. Take tuna for instance. As a fisherman, you're battling the ocean, the weather and mechanical failures. One day, you're wrestling two monsters at once, the next you're begging the fish to bite. Doesn't matter if you've got the best equipment, the juiciest lure, but the tuna ain't nibbling, you know."

"What's the point?" He asked frustrated.

"It's income. It's your bread and butter. No fish no food no house no car. Stakes are high, you gotta get back out there, and pray you come back with one in the freezer."

Danny smirked. The Agent had replied so deliberately. "I meant what's the purpose of the explanation."

Gibbs stood to his feet, grabbed the plates, and took them to the sink in the kitchen, then turned around to face him.

"Every dirtbag has a way they commit the perfect crime. As an investigator, it's my duty to find out what it is, 'cause like with every fish there's a lure, every suspect has a weakness. You don't get it by surrendering to the conditions or yielding to the game they want you to participate in. No, you change it by making the playing field yours, and then you force them to follow your rules."

He nodded that he understood, but signed his concern. _"You think it wise to lay out your plan, audibly?"_

" _I'm not playing this game, remember?"_

The Agent gestured about the living room. "You're welcome to stay, Colonel. The couch is yours for the taking."

"Thank you, for helping." Danny relayed a tad embarrassed.

"You're welcome." Gibbs dipped his chin, smile as visible as a speck on a window. "Last time though, barely had the thing for a year. Hate to ruin the warranty."


	17. Parry

**Chapter 17:** **PARRY**

The next morning Gibbs came down the stairs, discontinued in the foyer as he caught sight of the living room. The Lt. Colonel's stained but neatly folded clothes sat waiting on the coffee table, along with his leather boots.

He smirked at the scene, not surprised the man had left without saying a word, and headed for the kitchen. Breakfast, unfortunately had to wait, so he snatched a reddish apple from the bowl next to the fridge and went down to the basement. But then came to a standstill alongside the skeletal timber frame of a recent design and sneered wryly.

"Unlocked door seemed like a sucha good idea."

"What's up General Gaius?" Tori inquired in a chirpy tone.

Gibbs swiveled to gaze at her where she stood beneath the wooden staircase.

"Not in the mood, Major." He tapped his ear to show someone might be listening.

"We're in the clear." Tori relayed composed, changed the focus. "History depicts Gaius Marius as one who organized the Roman army into the most effective fighting machine ever seen. I must say, you should be honored. Your tactic worked."

"I should shoot you, for trespassing." He walked for his workbench, snatched his watch, and walked for the stairs. "But 'cause I'm _nice_ in nature, I'll let you off with a warning."

"Danny got me up to speed, Agent Gibbs. Your move is a dangerous one."

The comment halted his stride, one hand on the wooden railing as he glared at her.

"Is that a threat, Major?"

"A warning most likely, whichever way you see it."

"I gave the Colonel the advice you wanted. I'm letting this one go. I have a job to do and I suggest you consider what's yours before you reply."

"He's already chosen his next substitute, Gibbs." Tori countered in a serious tone.

"It's not my fight." He replied, vaulting up the steps.

"And you're okay with that?"

Gibbs stopped. Looked down at her. "It's personal for you. Personal blinds clear perspective and leads to unkempt decisions. It's bloody, causes emotional scars, taints your conscience. Take it from me, thirty years from now, life catches up. It ain't pretty."

"And what about the lives he left in uncharted waters?" She demanded as he headed for the door. "Cast aside 'cause they've served a purpose to _his_ cause. They were weak-minded and desperate people lured with hope. With a stained-glass sunlight. What about them? Aren't they the ones you swore to serve? To give justice and solace to?"

He receded with a few steps, leaned over the railing, narrowed his eyes at her.

Tenacity was obvious and so was her determination. From experience, he saw himself, not the mirror reflection she had portrayed in Yuma. This was real and the truth. Then why did it provoke unease? His gut warned him to be cautious of his emotions, to avoid the carrot she was dangling.

"If they want mercy, they should've repented and sacrificed their kingpin. They didn't. Instead, they're protecting him."

"Your team has done the same for you." She justified.

"It's different. I would never ask them to throw their careers away for me."

"Yet they have, placed their futures on the line to save you, several times. Loyal why? 'Cause you earned it or because you manipulated them?"

That earned her a shooting dagger look, also drew him from the stairs and back into his basement. "Dangerous territory for someone who's at a crossroad."

"My path's clear, Agent Gibbs. You're the one stuck at the crossroad and regrettably, the higher ups have made the decision for you. As of now, you're my substitute."

The veteran's countenance danced with fury, eyes glistening with disapproval.

After what they had achieved in Yuma, this was how she thanked him? This was what he agreed to trust? He felt slighted, angered by his misjudgment. At present, he stared at betrayal and not the revered allegiance he'd witnessed in her team.

Gibbs stepped up to her, driven to intimidate and yet his approach lacked the influence he desired. She'd shown audacity before, this was no different. He was a wall hitting another wall.

"I am borne of patience and stubbornness. It's who I chose to be. You shatter; hammer through to expose lies. Every time I think I'm free, you pull the chain to remind me I'm a captive. You're not my master. No one's my advocate. I'm not a dog you can teach new tricks." He lowered his voice and directed his gaze towards her blank countenance. "When I say I'm done, I'm done. _Walk away_." He warned her.

An errant grin twisted her lips, lit up in her amber eyes. "Fear doesn't suit you, Gibbs, neither does lying. You can't let go and yet you're desperate to run. What are you afraid of?"

"No-no, this is not an intervention." He reprimanded.

Backing away, he gestured about the basement. "This isn't Yuma anymore."

Then pointed a finger at her, bemused why he was validating his actions.

"I had to confront you because you distracted me from the investigation. I got my answers and we moved on." He leveled his gaze at her, commanded in a low growl. "Stop digging. Focus on your case and get out of my past."

Tori held her hands spread-eagle as she emerged from her hiding place.

"What more is there to take from you? What more can you give?" Her arms lowered to her sides. "You've suffered loss. Fought for a family in return. You blame yourself for the deaths of those you couldn't protect. Work, so that you can divert others away from the same heartaches. Man of valor; of integrity; of purpose. That's Special Agent Gibbs. But who is Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"

She stopped a few feet away from him. He stared at her at a loss for words.

"He knows I've discovered his scheme and it's driven him to a calculated abyss. Emerging from it time and again, he leaves a meager clue for me to follow, then withdraws. He uses people to fill his weaknesses, layering himself behind surmounts of information. Careful, deliberate and cunning. Never leaves a trace behind. Cleans his tracks like footprints in the sand. Someone always willing to fall on their sword for him. Why then is it personal for me? Why then do you hide your past?"

The veteran narrowed his eyes, cautioning that she was treading dangerous territory for a second time. She turned her back to him and walked for the bottom step of the staircase.

"'Cause I've seen where the lines blur, where the truth and the lie have intertwined to form duplicity. Where a human mind cracks, passes into a reality they fear they can never escape. In a place where you step over the line into a world filled with hatred, anger, lust, and exhilaration. It's hard to find that flicker of light that will lead you back home."

She paused, allowing the statements to settle, then advanced with three more steps.

"Concern for human life, it's determined by compassion or negated by malice so thick as oil on water, it can't find daylight. Instead, it smothers the light from existence."

Gibbs stepped forward. His gaze could bore a hole in hers, but her eyes never averted. Rather, she stayed resolute, her motive stronger than his.

"If you can differentiate between the two; position yourself in a category. He'll be black and contorted with no affection or consideration whatsoever."

Tori bounded up the rest of the stairs and vanished from view, leaving him to contemplate their discussion by himself.

So much had been said. So much information downloaded in such a short space of time. Then it dawned on him.

In a way, she'd described the culprit's character by using his life as an example. Rather, the lines had separated them by a decision. The former was to live for others and another was to destroy lives. He, Gibbs, fit the first, whereas the kingpin fit the latter. And it had begun by losing what they'd valued most in life.

At the revelation, he set off after her and caught her arm as she exited the front door. Pulling her back into the foyer, he blocked her way and glared annoyed.

"You did it again, Tori. You wrangled me into breaching my past. Forced me to dig in a place I'd covered up for a reason."

She shrugged flippantly. "I do try."

"That bastard's a twisted version of me." He stated, though it sounded like a request.

"Gee whiz, now we're getting somewhere."

Gibbs shared her wayward smile before tilting his head to the left. Scowled. Tori marked the expression and queried.

"What's wrong?"

"Where are Danny's clothes?" He walked for the living room. "I could've sworn it was there earlier."

She gasped. A gunshot reverberated, trembled in his frame. A cold sensation slithered from head to toe. He turned slowly in the haze and stared down at her inert form. Next, seized his pistol aiming it at the man who walked in from the porch.

He was the spitting image of himself. Donning black attire, he held his old Sig Sauer on him in similar fashion. His gray tuft plastered to one side like Major Berth's flaxen hair, eyes were vibrant blue made of fiery hatred, while his countenance dripped with ominous satire.

"I am sorry, Leroy." His voice resonated back at him. "I had to remove the distraction. She was a liability; you have to understand. I won't compete with someone so trusting, so young. It's me and you, _alone_. No one gets hurt if you obey this one simple rule."

His replica laughed at him in a seemingly mocking fashion, until a voice pierced the palpable atmosphere.

 _"Hello boss? Gibbs?"_ Although distant, the kind tone he quickly recognized. "Gibbs. Um, Abby wants to see you."

The nightmare faded away like paint draining from a canvas. He rubbed at his eyes, placed his hands on his head and heaved a trembling sigh.

Scrutinizing the man's strange conduct, McGee asked with concern. "Are you okay, boss?"

Gibbs lifted his chin to gaze where he stood across from him. "Yeah, Tim. Can I help you?"

"Abby's found something. Been asking for you for the last hour. I promised I would relay the message once I saw you." He gazed about the area. "Break room was the last place I thought I would find you."

His chin drooped as he placed a forefinger and thumb on his eyes. For some reason, the daydream refused to let go. It hung like a drape in his mind's eye reeling the dreadful imagery over and over again.

"What's it about? Did she say?"

"Didn't actually. She said it was a personal errand. Are you?" Tim hesitated, cautious of treading on his leader's private endeavors. "Are you working another case, boss?"

Gibbs pushed the chair back as reply. Stood and walked away.

"Are you sure you're okay?" McGee asked after him, scowl furrowing his brow.

"Tired, Tim. I'm tired, is all." He reassured over his shoulder.

The younger Agent's scowl deepened, then suddenly sighted the man's coffee on the table. "Wait, you forgot . . ." But Gibbs had disappeared around the corner.

The elevator dinged, doors released and then closed shortly thereafter. A minute after, they slithered open to the noise of heavy rock music. It was one of those days again, something brought on by his furtive request this morning.

"Abby!" Gibbs yelled over the music. She gazed over her shoulder, seized the remote, and snuffed the blaring sound. "You called?"

"Several times, Gibbs." The Goth scientist pouted. "You're scaring me."

 _Apparently, you're not the only one._ The veteran halted beside her, ignoring the concern creasing her face. "Ya got something, Abs?"

She squinted her eyes at him, curious to know what was going on inside that head of his.

"Yeah, the clothes came back negative. Though judging by the size of the tear in the shirt, it was a pocket knife, possibly Swiss."

"Doesn't narrow it down much, Abby." He said, exasperated that he'd been served with a dead end yet again.

The scientist noted the apprehension and gestured for him to look at the plasma screen.

"The clothes may not have offered the knockout you so desire, but here's the real kicker."

"Oh, sounds promising." He perked up intrigued by the sound in her voice and did as instructed. "What am I looking at?"

"Tread of his boots. I dug really, _really_ deep and analyzed the contents lodged in their soles. Well, Mr Mac-Spectrometer did, I just gave him . . ."

"Yeah and?" He pressed, finally feeling as if he was nearing the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Evidence shows he'd been at an underground sewer recently. As in last night."

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder, negating the answer almost immediately. "He has an alibi, Abby."

She wagged a finger at him. "His boots say otherwise and forensics doesn't lie."

He approached her, still in need to disagree, but she was correct. The evidence did not lie, and he had left the man alone for the evening. There was a possibility he'd gone. Came back later to drop off the clothes as asked.

 _Or he lied about his whereabouts last night. Then again, Tori confirmed his assignment this morning. He followed me around since our return from Yuma._

 _I'm missing something._

"Anyway, I did some virtual digging and found an abandoned car at one of the dozen or so sewers. Matches what's on file." She held out a piece of paper for him to take. "Address, my kind Sir."

He gave her hug, surprising her, took it to leave when he stopped at the table. He motioned at the processed evidence. Countenance one of perplexity. "Danny's?"

She turned to face him, scowling bemused. "Yeah, it's what you gave me this morning. Why?"

"Oh." He said as he walked for the elevator. _Those ain't his. It's another crumb._

"Thanks Abs. Owe you one."

"Of course you do. Huge, massive, big Caf POW! Not one but two." She proceeded to the door leading up to her lab. "And don't go doing John Wayne or anything stupid like that. You hear me?"

Gibbs smirked at her considerate complexion and waved a curt goodbye as the doors slid shut. Then a light bulb moment struck, and he hit the doors in bitter anger.

"Son of a . . . he was at my house!"

 _When? Could he have overheard our conversation this morning?_ He felt his blood run cold in his veins, heart thrash in his ears. _Dammit! Danny. It's a ruse_.


	18. Remise Attack (part 1)

**Chapter 18:** **REMISE STRIKE (Part 1)**

"Let's hope for your sake that Agent Gibbs comes to the rescue." Aubrey encircled his captive, thirsty for another moment of exhilaration. "And brings my prize to me."

Danny spat blood to one side, swayed his chin against his chest as exhaustion set in.

"This was a stupid mistake, Derringer."

The man cuffed his head from behind, then came about and thrust a knee to his jaw. The Colonel felt a tooth dislodge, head ricocheting with the vicious whiplash. He spit it out and groaned as the copper taste filled his mouth.

"That's not how you beg for mercy my dear man." Aubrey rebuked in a subtle tone.

"I'm sorry but I'm pretty sure that was a deliberate insult." He joked.

It earned him a fist to the stomach. Winded, he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling and laughed in painful gasps.

"Brave but an empty gesture, asshole. I've had worse."

Aubrey seized a hand full of hair and jerked it back, afterwards drilled the man with a blazing glare.

"This is the moment you choose what's important, Danny. A wife with a child on the way can only be saved with obedience."

He let go. The Colonel growled precariously low, shouting foul curses as retort before the man rewarded him with a jab to his jaw.

"Info, Colonel! Tell me what her weak spot is. Relent!" He demanded in livid fashion.

"Go to hell." Danny hissed in return.

Vexed by the soldier's resolve, Aubrey retrieved the same knife used the evening before. Lifted it high above his head, lunged it down towards the soldier's left knee.

A painstaking cry echoed in the chamber, but then ended abruptly. Danny bit his bottom lip, repressing the outcry.

His captor wanted, sought, ravished after surrender. He wouldn't give it, not now, not after what they'd done to get here. He was the first one to recognize the kingpin and it burned to the core knowing he'd had the man before him in Yuma. Even if he had worn a mask concealing his identity, he now knew. Casey Derringer was the ghost Tori had been searching for all this time.

Fear trembled down his frame. Aching pain shivered in its wake. Understanding flashed like a billboard sign.

 _You're not getting out of here alive, Danny Johnson. You're a means to an end; a substitute to be demolished._

 _I'm so sorry Tori. I wasn't quick enough. Not strong as you thought, Gibbs._

 _I'm sorry for this, but I swore to protect you, this country. It's my duty. It's my privilege_.

A whimper slipped by his lips, morphed into racking sorrow. His beautiful wife flitted, followed by the sonar picture of his unborn son. Aubrey yanked the knife from its place, and it did the work of piercing through the precious memories. They cluttered to pieces, anguish like razor-sharp darts as it rushed over his body.

"Submit. Relinquish. Crack. Relent." He articulated in striking procession. "Life for a life, it's all I that request. Give me her life and I'll grant you yours."

"The declaration stands Derringer!" Danny yelled at him and Aubrey reacted in like manner.

This time his right knee received the sheer blade. Tears slithered down his cheeks as he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the stale chamber. Faint words drifted into the void above, entreating prayer slipping through his lips.

"Forgive me." He chanted in a rhythmic tone.

"You would pledge your life for her." He contended in revulsion. "You would leave your wife without a husband. Who will care for her, for your unborn child? You'd let the world take your life like it took mine!"

"I swore an oath."

Aubrey gazed at him as if he'd gone mad.

"Don't you get it? That precious oath you took means nothing once you die. Your family will resent you; loathe you for being a selfish fool. It's a void privilege – your bravery to save a thorn in my flesh. Is she that valuable? Is she really worth your sacrifice?"

Danny levelled his gaze at Aubrey, expression flashing between agony and confusion. The man was arguing with him. Trying to make sense of a nonsensical death, he pleaded his cause. Since when did a murderer allow time for vindication? Rather they thrived on contention, provoking their victim in order to claim life in the twinkling of an eye.

Was Derringer scared? So then killing was new to him, but he'd poisoned the lawyer. All this time, the death tally had been orchestrated not committed in person. He would be his first.

The thought sent a chilling sensation down his spine.

On the battlefield, he'd confronted death numerous times. The idea of it still made him nauseous and yet he had fought through it and survived. It was his decision to enlist in the military, his decision to run into the face of raging firefights. Only to realize he would die at the hands of a callous, manipulative charlatan, on home soil of all places.

Panic surrounded his body like a smothering shawl. He could feel its claws crush his lungs. Suddenly, the room felt cramped, walls like a boa constrictor as they invaded his sphere.

Aubrey lurked like a jaguar in the shadows. Discerned the sudden change in the soldier's behaviour and laughed at the absurdity. Like a baited trap, Danny's weakness lured him from the darkness. He jerked the knife from his knee, then revelled in the moan that came from his throat.

"Please. Don't do it." The soldier pleaded. "Please, I beg you. Don't."

"Give me what I want, Danny." He coaxed in a gentle tone. "Tell me what her secret is."

Danny lowered his chin, shook his head, then sobbed uncontrollably. _He'll never grant you your life. You know too much. Seen a great deal already._

"Gibbs! I'm here Agent Gibbs. I'm here!" He implored as loud as he could. "Help me!"

"You really are pathetic, soldier." Aubrey cackled.

"Please! Help me, Gibbs!"

"Danny! I'm here! I'm coming!" The veteran returned his call.

Both men startled with the unexpected outcry, but Aubrey recovered quick enough to flash the soldier a wicked smile. He stood behind him, grabbed his hair and lugged it back. His eyes focussed on the man's terror laced countenance. His voice like a ravished wolf.

"He's just in time Danny, but sadly it looks like the hero's lost. Not to worry, you're the icing on the cake."

"No! Gibbs!" He begged once again.

Delighted with the role he had played, Aubrey placed the knife to the man's exposed throat and slashed.


	19. Remise Attack (part 2)

**Chapter 19:** **REMISE STRIKE (PART 2)**

 **EARLIER**

Benching the team, he'd instructed McGee to track his phone and once he reached the destination, to ping any other cellular devices in the ten-mile radius. Those closest, the team had to access their phone records to see if any were suspicious. It was a long shot, but even those had yielded fruit. It paid off in the past. It would today.

Further instructions were to pursue him fifteen minutes after he had arrived. This way if he did find something or someone, they would be on route, not stuck at the Navy Yard. If he did come up empty, a simple phone call would halt the search dogs. Even so, his gut instinct said speed was key, but a familiar setting sent his resolve into a train wreck, halted it altogether.

The veteran vacated the Dodge, eyes scanning the scene before him. He and Kate had arrived to this exact location a little under fifteen years ago. Instead, this time he wasn't chasing after DiNozzo or Sacco, but Danny. He was alone, Kate a memory and not as backup.

Conflicting emotions surged inside of him, but he sealed it off with a stoic expression. He walked towards the entrance of the underground sewer and stopped at its threshold.

 _"We don't get lost."_ He heard himself say to the officer back then. Kate smiled at the deadpan, almost arrogant reply.

Disregarding it, he retrieved his miniature flashlight, activated it and entered. He wondered if Tony's signpost marks still engrained these decaying walls. Regardless, he saw the course in his mind's eye as if it had happened yesterday. Even the screams of Major Sacco reverberated in his chest, along with the image of the Special Agent walking beside him.

 _"Tony's still alive."_ Kate had said, and he had looked at her baffled. _"Who else you know pisses off people like that?"_ He remembered shrugging, smiling a _yeah_ _that's true_ sneer.

 _"Danny won't make it like DiNozzo did, Gibbs."_ Her voice altered, came through bitter, reproachful even. _"Run? You can run, but you won't make it."_

Urgency amassed around him like swelling thunder over the ocean. Increasing in speed, he traversed the sewer like a Marine an obstacle course. 'Till a chilling scream echoed high above his slapping footfalls, then ended as if it had been cut off.

Gibbs set out in a frantic rush, sighting the mental marks he'd established years before. Veered right to the noise of conversing voices. He was getting closer to the chamber. Kate's apparition had been premature in forecast, he would make it. He would kill that slick bastard. Put an end to this game.

"Please. Don't do it." The soldier pleaded. "Please, I beg you. Don't."

The veteran's muscles racked with angst. He heard heavy sobs drifting in the foul air, then a bellowing outcry burst through like a lightning strike.

"Gibbs! I'm here Agent Gibbs. I'm here!" Danny implored. "Help me!"

The Colonel sounded desperate. Panic trembled in his voice. Death was imminent. Those curt eruptions of beseeching confirmed it. Three turns – that's how far he had to go, but why did it feel like it was so far away? Out of reach, as if he was running in circles, as if the destination kept shifting like a mirage.

"Please! Help me, Gibbs!"

"Danny! I'm here! I'm coming!" The veteran returned his call and yet Danny did not.

Never had the silence felt so palpable, his heart desperate for resonance, for anything that would guarantee life and not death. He veered into another passage and stopped. The area appeared unfamiliar. He'd followed the man's cries of help and now there were none to steer him.

"No! Gibbs!" The scream pierced the air. Remorseful. Petrified.

With one syllable, he discerned Danny was at the end, though it didn't prevent him from turning on his heels and rushing after the soldier.

Gibbs ran up to the intended passage, sighted the door left so to obscure the interior.

An emotion knocked him square in the heart. Every fiber in his frame stalling, even his breathing slowed down. Nevertheless, he willed his legs forward one after the other. Before the door, he poised his pistol as his eyes scoured the area he could see. Stepped to the right and thudded the door open with his foot.

It creaked on rustic hinges, moved slowly until it bumped against the wall.

The space froze. Mind, body, and soul immobilized.

Danny's lifeless form filtered into view. Hands tied behind his back, he sat with chin latent upon his chest, but Gibbs knew there was no life in him anymore.

Rage licked at his emotions like a spitting fire. Too late, he'd been too late. The kingpin within grasp, only to find he'd claimed a life to spite him.

He turned the other way, gaze penetrating through the sewer. The air had altered into an eerie stillness, eliciting gooseflesh on his skin. The killer still lingered. He sensed his presence.

Poising his weapon again, he advanced to the corner, his face morphing into a single-minded expression. Senses on high alert, he shoved the flashlight back into his pocket and levelled the pistol down the left-hand side.

"Gibbs." The call was mellow whereas the ending of his name faded into a snakelike tone.

"Agent Gibbs." Aubrey goaded in like manner, then elongated the ensuing declaration. "I'm . . . _disappointed_."

Hair-raising laughter resonated in a low pitch. Gibbs shunned it, moved along the wall after the sound of the mocking voice.

"Within your grasp. So close and yet so far. What to do? What to do?" A beat followed the taunting. " _Gibbs_."

The snakelike tone sliced like a frigid breeze through his frame. Again he flouted the uncanny play, veered left, and sprinted for the next corner. Halted, checked both sides of the corridor before deciding to progress forward. Ignorant that Aubrey stood at the entryway of the sewer.

His voice was faraway as he recited in an elegant mode.

"I am the hunted slithered from your reach. A killer to be slain. What to do? What will you ever do? I know you are listening from the other side." He snickered at the satire. "So here you come, after a ghost you will never find. Gun primed straight at me, deception always triumphs. I will always win. Sayonara, Agent Gibbs."

Five minutes later the sun washed over him as he exited the sewer, heading directly for the vehicle, but discontinued once he saw the wheels. Slashed to prevent further pursuit. That famous anger returned in full vigour, then dissipated as he turned to look across at the entryway.

Fourteen years apart. Divergent results. He'd emerged a failure, back then a victor. Two Special Agents on each wing and now he was alone, empty-handed.

Irritation flared, burned in his chest while he grabbed for his phone, though, instead of dialing McGee's number, he dialled Ducky's. A sliver of remorse beating in his chest, as this was a disheartening call he regretted.

He didn't have to know what the time of death was, or what weapon was used or why. He'd witnessed it first-hand and it echoed in his mind like a skipping record.


	20. Crumbling Fortress

**Chapter 20:** **CRUMBLING FORTRESS**

The door to Autopsy swished open, Tori following swiftly in its wake and then came to an abrupt stop.

"Can I help you?" An elder gentleman asked behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder, repressing the impending grief. "Dr Donald Mallard I presume."

He produced a sweet smile. "Please, my colleagues call me Ducky. And you are?"

"Major Hatcher." She shifted her gaze to the body bag positioned on the slab. "Former C.O. He was – he was my second-in-command."

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

Tori's professional mask slipped into place. She side stepped to look at the friendly Brit and bestowed him an appreciative smile. She couldn't deal with the loss, not now and not in front of someone she barely knew. And it's not like she'd done her fair share of crying on the way over. Soldier on she had to for the sake of staying impartial. But still, he and his wife had been close friends. He deserved a proper remembrance, tears and all. In due time.

"I heard you have a knack for profiling."

"My dear, it's a mask you cannot keep from me."

Ducky referred to her cold nature. The same type of professionalism Gibbs showed when someone had hit close to home.

She smiled at that and suddenly felt at ease. His presence was soothing, uncanny for someone who preferred the dead rather than working on the living. In a way, he did contribute in aiding those seeking justice. She liked him.

"War prepares you for loss. You expect it each time you gain ground on the battlefield. Then you come home; you're supposed to be safe. That vigilance as if a vapour, but then a whack-job does this."

She gazed at her friend. "Danny was a competent, reliable man and now his son will never know."

Hearing the resentment in her tone, he nodded but stayed silent. Deliberating was her way of comprehending a complex situation. He understood.

The Major looked at him, expression firm. "Can I bounce something off you?"

"I may work in autopsy dear, but you won't find a keener listener than I."

"Then you haven't met Agent Gibbs."

Ducky scowled at the inaccurate statement. Tori snickered enjoying the bemused expression on his face. Soon thereafter he joined her in chuckling. It faded though, the air turning sombre once more as she stepped closer to the slab in the center of the room.

"He offered him life, Ducky. Life for life and he chose mine above his own, above those of his wife and son's lives."

"If he's a soldier, he understood the consequences. In forfeiting his life, he saved his family."

"That's not how this perpetrator operates."

She faced him. Anger glinted in her amber eyes, then vanished as swiftly.

"He preys on the weak. Infuses new life into their horrid circumstances by supplying them with what they desire. Takes care of them like a crime boss his cohorts. Takes it just as effortlessly. However, he decides what you should offer in return. When you should do it and how. Danny, he robbed of a lifetime, leaving his wife alone to raise their child. It's punishment for not subjugating to his rules. It's also the last thing he experienced before his life was stolen from him."

With a few paces, she backed away from the Doctor. "Influence in this regard dwindled in the low; he had to crawl from his abyss. He changed his modus operandi. Why?"

"Confidence?"

"Manipulating people like he does, there's no cowardice. The art of the con enquires a certain charisma, vivacity."

"His recent actions portray the same earmarks of the lawyer's demise. Cunning, intentional – but there's a drive now more than ever, stemming from a moment of doubt surely. He lacks clarity since all that he sees is a fracture in his shell that he's so desperate to fill."

She quirked her eyebrow, surprised he knew of Jeandré's murder whilst she also welcomed the fresh perspective.

"Gibbs spoke to you?"

Ducky offered her a wayward smile. "If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools. Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools."

"Rudyard Kipling." Tori supplied quick as lightning.

The elder gentleman's face lit up in wonder. "At long last I've met a young lady who harbours a passion for poetry."

Smirking she nodded, then her face fell.

"Yet, Francis Thompson seems more appropriate. 'I fled him, down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind, and in the mist of tears. I hid from him, and under running laughter. Up vistaed hopes I sped; and shot, precipitated, Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears, from those strong feet that followed, followed after. But with unhurrying chase, and unperturbèd pace, deliberate speed, majestic instancy, they beat. — And a voice beat more instant than the feet— 'All things betray thee, who betrayest me.'"

"Indeed, it is my dear." Ducky agreed with a nod. "It fits this crestfallen scene like a glove. And like it's end, I hope this quest of yours follows."

"Reconciliation is far from the maniac's mind, Ducky."

"Gibbs always gets his man. There's no doubt. I'm referring to the bond you seem to share."

She shrugged. "I've caused more pain than alleviate it. And. He's not the only one." Tori gathered a deep breath, finally turned to face her fallen friend. "What he must have endured."

She fingered the zipper of the body bag before pulling on it. As it released so did her tears and she embraced them with frankness.

"Fourteen years of service only to die in a cruel hunt. He sacrificed his life to defend me. How then do you reward a dead man, Ducky?"

"By saving those entangled in his web of lies." He offered, then swung around as the door hissed behind him.

"No, Doc. By killing the bastard who did this." Gibbs intervened.

His livid gaze bore a hole in the back of Tori's head. This she knew as she lingered in her current location. She heard him murmur something to the M.E. Heard the man accept the request and vacate the room.

The veteran came about without a sound. Even so, she sensed his presence. Also felt his relentless gaze on her, though by his silence, discerned he was torn inside.

Since they'd returned from Yuma, he'd been coerced into confronting dormant wounds. Ones she opened with salt intent on showing him whom they were dealing with. The thing was. Only he could get to the bottom of this. Her expertise had forfeited the moment he had agreed to aid her.

"I'm at a loss, Gibbs. I've got nothing for you."

"Don't be naïve. You're not fooling anyone, least of all me. Look at him!" He snarled. Tori's gaze snapped up, stunned by his gruff command. "Look."

She did and burst into tears.

He lifted her chin, then spoke in a hushed tone of voice. "He begged me to help him. I couldn't." He swallowed. "Do you know how it feels to hear the screams of torment?"

"I have, emitting from my throat. Like razor blades, they shred deep into your soul. It's not something you soon forget."

Gibbs winced, realizing he'd made a snap judgment. She continued voice cold and quivering.

"I know what he suffered. I can feel every blow, each stab wound, every torment as if I was there with him. He deluded himself into thinking the kingpin would spare him, but near the end, he understood he was a liability. A loose end that needed to be clipped. He begged because he saw it as his last resort at changing the maniac's mind. He just didn't realize that by doing so, it enticed him instead."

Tori wiped at her tears, placed a chaste kiss on Danny's forehead, then turned to leave.

"We're not done yet." Gibbs took hold of her arm hindering her retreat. "My team's done processing the scene. Soon or later those loose ends will connect."

"I need to think Gibbs. That's who I am, that's where I operate best."

"It's time to act, not cower."

Slighted by the allegation, she ripped her arm from his hold. "You can't act on something you can't see."

"You're contradicting your nature?" He surpassed her at the threshold, stood before the elevator, and taunted. "Fire too hot for you, Tori?"

"Don't patronize me. I don't require an intervention."

Gibbs surged into a bout of laughter, exhibiting what he thought of the ludicrous statement.

"What, that's your comeback? Don't patronize _me_. So called Special Ops soldier, at the first sign of retaliation you hide your tail and run. I don't remember the military enlisting cowards."

Frustration flitted on her countenance, yet she remained composed. "If you mean to provoke me, it's not gonna work."

"You know, Vance was right about you." Gibbs flashed her a smug smile. "You're so focused on the small frame; it makes you blind. You forget the bigger picture."

"What are you insinuating? That I lack persistence?"

He moved forward, glared at her. "No, you've lost perspective. One barrier broken, you shatter as a whole instead."

She held his glare for a moment. "Seeing that you're such an expert, what do you suggest I do?"

"You fight!" Gibbs thundered. "Like there's no tomorrow, to get it back and carry on until it ends."

"And what if I can't see that finish line any longer? What if I'm incapable of persisting? 'Cause it seems he's barely begun."

"Screw his goal line, focus on our objective. You have it in you to see this through to the finale, Tori. And you're not alone."

"Then tell me what I should do. Help me."

Gibbs relaxed.

There it was. The submission, the surrender he had hoped to find. If they were cut from the same cloth, this was it. They had both seen to it, to crack each other's stubbornness. As result, he had retreated only to have himself pulled back in, whereas she had endured only to allow Danny's death to cripple her fortitude. They were on neutral terms now, ready to work as a unit and not as clashing waves.

His phone blared in the silence.

"Gibbs." He answered gruffly.

"A waiter has come forward." Vance began. "Said he'd last seen the lawyer. I pulled the necessary strings, and the police have agreed to hand over the case." A beat ensued. "I believe this is the break Major Hatcher's been looking for. It's yours if you want it, Gibbs."

"Since when did I ditch it, Director?" He paused intentionally. "Just like I didn't know you and the Major set me up. That's two favours you owe me, Leon."

He flipped the phone shut with a plan already in play.


	21. Cracked Masquerade

**Chapter 21:** **CRACKED** **MASQUERADE**

"He's been sitting like that for an hour." Torres whined. "Staring."

"It works." Tim replied. "Gets me every time."

"He's a waiter for crying out loud. They're easy to break."

"There's more to it." Bishop relayed pensively. "Gibbs knows what he's doing."

Behind them, Tori slipped from the room, walked down the corridor and forestalled before the door to the interrogation room. Gathered a deep breath allowing a cordial persona to slide into place and opened the door.

"Did not see that coming." Tim stated baffled. "Here comes the hurricane."

"She bit the bullet." Torres stated from the side. "Even I know to stay away."

"Guys look." Bishop shifted their attention. "He's being nice to her."

"Surrendering his chair, that's new."

"Oh, he's grabbing the other one, setting it next to hers." Torres narrated.

"Good cop bad cop?"

"How about sweet cop good cop."

"I get it." Bishop pointed at the mirror. "Look at the waiter's reaction. He appreciates the gesture."

"Tactic then."

"Who said chivalry's dead? It lives, apparently."

Inside the room, Tori smirked at the waiter making him feel more at ease.

"So Teddy. Can I call you Teddy?"

He dipped his chin, smile climbing ever so slightly.

"Awesome. Can you tell us what happened that evening?"

"Ms Tait arrived a little after seven. Asked for Mr Davenport. After that, they had a brief conversation and by the time it was over, she looked like she was in a daze."

"How so?" She leaned forward, showing she was genuinely engrossed with the account.

Teddy relished the attention and replied.

"Mr Davenport has that effect on women. Though this was the first time he'd walked away after such a brief meeting." He paused as something came to mind. "They'd exchanged a kiss. Abnormal behaviour for him."

"I see. How long have you known him?"

"I'd say a while." Gibbs interjected.

Tori gazed at him, eyes narrowed. "True, especially if he knows his routine."

"Yeah, and if he's the kiss and tell type."

"But he isn't, though. According to Teddy here, he knows how to swoon a woman. He would cater accordingly." She shifted her eyes back to the waiter. "No pun intended."

"Help us out, _Teddy_." Gibbs entreated as he gazed at him.

He flinched with the behaviour. Having had the privilege of staring at him for a long while, it triggered apprehension. He hesitated.

"You note a change in her behaviour?"

His eyes flitted from Gibbs to hers, then stayed on hers. "She had been determined, stanch in her demeanour. But after he'd left, she was stumped. Like the wind was knocked from her sails."

"Must've been some kiss." She jested to Gibbs.

He smirked. "Nah, I think it's what he said."

"Tell me more."

The veteran gestured to Teddy. "He knows. Don't ya?"

Swallowing, he extended a hand and tilted it to one side and then to the other. It was a more or less response.

"I think he threatened her." Gibbs regarded him, smiled when the man blinked. "Yeah, she provoked him."

"Oh, I bet Davenport didn't like that." Tori replied.

"Her clients denied the smuggling charges. Then after she turns up dead, they plead guilty. Strange dontcha think?"

"Coincidence maybe." She offered, knowing those ceased to exist in their line of work.

"You're kidding right?" Gibbs laughed. She smirked waywardly.

"Wait." Teddy interrupted. Both gazed at him. Both raised their eyebrows. "Mr Davenport's an investor."

"Ya think?"

"Too little I'm afraid." She quipped.

"Good one." He retorted with a chuckle.

"Thank you."

"Ms Tait was his lawyer." Teddy clarified. "He knew her as a business acquaintance."

Tori tsked. "Oh, you poor thing."

"How long do you think he's known?"

"What, that Davenport's business is less than courteous? Or that he hadn't really questioned the man's good intentions?"

"Neither."

Tori leaned back in her chair a tad astonished. "Oh."

Gibbs gazed at her, engaging in a comfortable discussion. "It took him five days to volunteer the info."

"Definitely orchestrated."

"Forfeited a pawn."

"Without question, but those charges are quite iffy."

"I came to you out of my own freewill." Teddy said somewhat offended.

Excluding him, Gibbs probed. "To protect himself?"

"Nah, a good citizen more like it."

"Mr Davenport's not a killer." He contended once more. "He's a good man. He takes care of his own."

"So then more than an investor." Tori surmised.

"A friend taking the fall. It's admirable."

"It's not, when they discover why they did it."

"Another accomplice behind bars."

" _Unless_."

Gibbs hummed his agreement.

"What?" The waiter gazed between them, puzzled.

Tori grinned at him. "Unless Davenport likes you for some reason."

"Heck why?" Gibbs grunted. "Jeez, he still sacrificed the man."

"In an amicable way."

"Civil?" He snorted. "He's a cold-blooded murderer."

"No argument there."

"I'm not following."

"Here's how we see it." She placed her elbows on the table, luring him into the deliberation. "Ms Tait delivers a blow. Davenport retaliates."

"You sure you want to include him?" Gibbs whispered as he leaned forward. "Don't think he'll be much help."

"It's too late now." Tori countered, then smiled at Teddy. "Later that evening, Mr Davenport makes good on his threat. Kills her. Drops her off at Norfolk."

"Got holes in your story there, kiddo." The veteran informed.

"Teddy, help me out here."

As a pair, they looked at him awaiting some sort of assumption.

He swallowed as he put together the pieces and once realization struck, his demeanour changed.

"He framed me for murder."

"Supposition?"

"No. A question." Gibbs amended deadpan.

"It's a fact." Teddy snarled. "He set me up to take the fall."

"So the dinner and the wine weren't the smoking gun?" Tori asked, genuinely intrigued.

Teddy shook his head, annoyed by the revelation. "His gun was."

"No sign of it on the security cams." Gibbs declared.

"She was poisoned, Teddy."

"The revolver was beneath the table when he threatened her. I overheard him asking her to touch it – as a means to show she was at a stalemate."

"I must say, it's a peculiar method to make it known."

"But effective." Gibbs retorted, attention now fully on the waiter. "What was your role?"

"To do my job. I was her server for the rest of the evening and called for a car service afterwards."

"Wow, so he's truly just a waiter." Tori declared astonished. Thumbed at Gibbs. "Gee whiz, now I owe him five bucks."

"Fifteen." He countered pokerfaced.

"What? Why?" Tori refuted appalled.

"Five bucks per theory."

"Okay, so he's not an investor."

"Aye."

"Arranged it so that we could identify Davenport."

He nodded with a chuffed smirk.

"Patsy." Teddy concluded.

"Fifteen."

He beckoned for the payment.

Tori reached for her pocket but discontinued, pretending she had thought of something. "Wait a minute. There's more."

"Oh yes, of course." Gibbs flicked his finger as if he'd come to the same conclusion. "There's a point to this."

"Exactly."

"We know the point already." Teddy said, annoyed by their banter. "I'm a bystander to murder."

He shook his head. "No, that's not it."

"He doesn't know. Be nice."

"This is me being nice." Gibbs said with a steely glare.

She winced, averted her gaze and looked at the waiter. Rolled her eyes. "My bad."

"Steven Sable."

"Nah, that's not right." She shook her head.

"Nicholas Patterson."

Her eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh yes – nope, doesn't ring a bell."

"Casey Derringer." Gibbs declared with animosity clear in his voice.

"Aubrey Davenport." Teddy corrected. "He's Aubrey Davenport."

"Ding, ding, ding. Oh, I am so sorry Theodore. No prize money for you. You lost." Tori teased, then jerked as the veteran kicked her shin. She cleared her throat, earnest expression falling into place.

"I don't understand."

"Alias' Teddy." Gibbs clarified stern and irritated. "All of them. Aubrey doesn't exist in that ideal world of yours. Whatever he promised you, he hung you out to dry."

"Did our little scheme work?" Tori asked of the waiter. "Did we entice you like Davenport did?" She lifted her hand and mimicked a scissor. "Snip, there you go."

Gibbs scowled at the behaviour, though it seemed to have worked on the waiter. He recoiled with the action, comprehension unfolding like a budding rose.

"You're nothing to him." She hissed. "Merely someone he roped in with lies only to reward you with his mess."

"Lawyer." Teddy snarled at her, blue eyes sparkling with aggravation.

"C'mon, seriously." Tori slammed her hands on the table as she stood to her feet. "After what that psychopath did, you still choose to defend him?"

" _Major_." Gibbs warned.

"No. He needs to know."

She opened the folder and spread a couple of photos on the table. Teddy winced, forcing them to one side and again demanded a lawyer.

"This could've been you." She held up the image of Jeandré, next showed him Danny's photo. "He was my friend. Killed because he refused to submit. They're dead Teddy, and yet you're still alive. Why? What's so special about you?"

"That's enough!"

The veteran seized her bicep in a gentle grip, nudged her aside, and procured the familiar spot at the table. His gaze shifted from hers, down to the waiter and then he leaned his hands on its surface.

The men held each other's focus for a minute before Gibbs grinned shrewdly.

"What's the message?"

Tori scowled, bemused by what the veteran had perceived. It was possible she'd seen it too in that hour of silence, but she'd lost perspective in the final minutes. Gibbs hadn't and she was grateful he was here to make up for the rookie mistake. Then Teddy mirrored the smile. His chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. Ostensibly, he had acted his part as well.

"Congrats on cracking the masquerade."

"Message." He urged in a snarl.

" _Ego problema_." Teddy announced in Latin.

"I am a riddle." Tori interpreted when Gibbs grunted in frustration.

" _Exploro; scrutatio_."

"Investigate; search."

Teddy's lips curved into a malicious sneer. " _Leo, Lupi. Illi sanguine bellum._ "

"To lions and wolves. To those of blood and war."

"I am not to be reckoned with." He allowed the thought to dangle, then recited the second part. " _Ego ultima adversaries. Non est occultatem ego magis_."

"I am the ultimate opponent. I am hidden no more."

" _Hanc Sententiam_. Major Tori Hatcher." The words spit like venom.

Gibbs scowled at the use of her full name. By the tone of his voice, he knew it wasn't good and silence on her part confirmed what his gut cautioned.

Tori stared at the waiter, mind mulling over what he had said and how he'd said it.

"This is the conclusion." She translated in a mellow tone.

Teddy leaned forward, eyes drilling that of the Major's. "Your weakness is mine. _Fractum Erupit_." He hissed.

"Fractured masquerade."

"Lawyer." He ordered for a third time.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Torres asked as he stepped towards the two-way mirror.

"Beats me." Bishop answered. "But he just rattled her, big time."

"Is that even possible?" Tim questioned. "What a performance though. Scarcely get to see that side of Gibbs."

"Tele Nova if you ask me."

"Guys this is serious. From what I've speculated, those two murders aren't the first. This goes way back for the Major."

"Without a doubt there's a connection to their recent field-trip." Tim said.

"Heard it was quite a sandstorm. Get it? _Sandstorm_ – as in Desert Storm. Those mercs . . ."

McGee offered him a lopsided smile, then his face fell into an earnest expression. "Rule 10."

"When the job is done, walk away?" Torres questioned.

"That's no. 11." Bishop corrected.

"Never get personally involved in a case." Tim recited. "Always been a tough one."

"It didn't become so personal until Gibbs emerged from the underground sewer."

"Don't blame him. It brought back old memories."

"It happened fourteen years ago, McGee."

"Yeah, and her death a year thereafter. No one enjoys recalling their failures."

"Back then, Kate and Gibbs came to Tony's rescue." Bishop reminded him. "There are many good memories you have of them."

"But the Major's friend didn't survive." Torres spoke. "It only enraged her personal pursuit. And he, whoever he is, just openly challenged her."

"The question is." Bishop began. "What's Gibbs going to do about it?"


	22. Enigma

**Chapter 22:** **ENIGMA**

The Major stepped in behind the veteran's desk, seized his baseball bat from beside the filing cabinet, and back peddled. His eyes trailed the movement, but returned to the case file he perused at present.

The bullpen was quiet, each busy with their portion of the case, each piecing together their theories about the ghost kingpin. Tori however, stood before Gibbs' desk in a side stance, tapped the side of her boot with its tip like she would as a cricketer.

Arms and bat positioned in the figure of six, she placed her right foot forward and propelled it ahead ending the block in the shape of a nine. Satisfied, she moved through the bullpen over to the windows and practiced a few batting techniques. When after a while, the bat rested on the floor, her hands folded neatly on its grip as her gaze became distant.

 _I am a riddle._

 _Investigate; search._

 _To lions and wolves. To those of blood and war, I am not to be reckoned with._

 _I am the ultimate opponent. I am hidden no more._

 _This is the conclusion, Major Tori Hatcher. Your weakness is mine, fractured masquerade._

Ellie stepped into view, and nudged her shoulder with her finger bringing her back to the present. A curious expression curved along the Agent's face, as if something trivial needed solving.

"I've been wondering." Bishop stepped closer. "How did you get Gibbs to warm up to you so quickly? What's your secret?"

"What? Secret?"

The Major blinked a few times. Her mind was far from the inquiry. Though, Tim's head lifted from his computer screen. Even Torres gazed from across the room curious to know the same thing. She looked at her, shifted her eyes to McGee, then over to Nick before they came to rest on Gibbs.

He faked ignorance, gaze fixed on the file, but the corner of his lips quirked into a sly smile. Ostensibly, he had been waiting on her, patiently.

Tori mirrored the sneer and directed her gaze to the right. "Special Agent McGee."

"Yes, Major."

"Could you display the players in chronological order for me?" The bat lifted toward the plasma screen to his right as she entered the bullpen. "I have a theory I'd like to share."

She came to a standstill before the veteran's desk, who nodded for Tim to proceed. Then she leaned against it, whereas he came about and sat down beside her. One by one, the photos lined up on the screen. In the meantime, Bishop stood to her right, while Torres rotated from his desk to look at the monitor.

"Steven Sable." Tori lifted the bat at his image, lowered it. "Nicholas Patterson. Aubrey Davenport, who met Teddy Sanchez and Jeandré Tait. Those three men were his first identities before he became Casey Derringer. Befriended Miguel and Nigel. Taught them the tricks of the trade." She looked to Tim. "Now, take away those who weren't impersonated and add the image from the hotel."

His fingers typed in the command and those asked for appeared.

"What do you see?" She asked of the team.

Gibbs hugged his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed as he scanned each man meticulously. "Same facial structure. Almost identical."

"Precisely, which made them easier to imitate."

"Why?" Bishop asked.

"Sable was a lawyer from Kentucky. Now a substitute teacher. Patterson owed a shipping company. Davenport had been an investor from Minnesota before they imprisoned him for fraud. Derringer was a federal agent until he persuaded him to go over to Yuma P.D."

"That's how they did the swap in prison." Gibbs inserted. "So?"

Tori sighted his raised eyebrow beckoning for a point. "Yeah, forgot you want evidence. McGee, show us a link between the players."

"Uh, yes." He obtained their information, then displayed three photos on the screen. "Nigel, Patterson, and Davenport are connected."

"Building contractor. Shipping owner. Investor. All of them financial resources."

"Leaves us with the lawyer and the federal agent." Torres pointed out.

"Kinda makes sense." Bishop mulled.

"It confirms the hypothesis you made in Yuma, Agent Gibbs. 'The shell game is in digital data, his sleight of hand changing both private and classified information'."

"Wrote that down Major Hatcher?" He jested. She grinned at the wry statement.

"What about those he didn't impersonate?" Tim asked as he displayed the images. "The waiter. Miguel. Nigel. And Ms Tait."

"Apparently, the real Derringer had met Miguel and Nigel before Miguel supposedly transferred to Arizona. He confessed that he'd introduced them to our ghost kingpin."

"And you know this how?" Gibbs requested in a stern voice.

"I called the Yuma police chief." She quickly supplied and gestured at Teddy's image to prevent further inquiry. "He's known Davenport before he transformed into Casey Derringer. Mentioned his work as a waiter served as a lookout, whereas Ms Tait was an additive. And just like Miguel and Nigel, she served as a backup to cover his tracks."

"Bring it all together for us, Major." Gibbs coached. "What do you see?"

Tori dipped her chin in accord. "The thread's there. Lawyer. Shipping owner and Investor. Those three permitted him to set up both legally and illegally a foundation for smuggling."

Bishop stepped forward. "The NCIS Agent and the civilian contractor could move mercenaries and weapons in secret, thus using their positions as a front for the trafficking ring."

"He used Derringer's identity to set up the nest in Arizona." Torres provided. "You delayed him before he could branch out, forcing him to fall back on one of his previous identities."

"Set Miguel, Nigel, and Jeandré to take the fall. Like he did with all of them." Gibbs said. His face showed musing with a hint of sadness. "Murdered Lt. Colonel Johnson as warning. And sent Teddy to force you out of hiding."

"Nineteen years of forging this empire, he announces the endgame. Why?"

Gibbs straightened in posture and advanced towards the monitor. "There's a second thread we're missing."

"There's nothing else for him to fall back on." Tori quickly objected. He scowled at her, surprised by the sudden opposition. She continued nonetheless. "He's compromised his identities."

"He's cleaning his slate." Torres specified. "I went through the timeline. He's got gaps where neither persona operated."

"The kingpin doesn't do gaps, not if there's a reason." She declared somewhat riled. "He fractured his subterfuge – therein lies the motive."

"But what about the source of that subterfuge?" Bishop asked. "Who is _he_ really?"

Gibbs swivelled and gazed between his Agents, then looked to Tori.

"It has merit. I want you to run his image through every database available. I want thorough backgrounds on each individual. A timeline where he entered their lives, took over and left. Find out exactly what paper trail he left behind, even if it were altered there's a purpose. He wants us to investigate these splintered identities. Let's do it then. Find the enigma."

The Agents scattered as one to their desks, whereas the veteran's gaze lingered on Tori.

"You and me, we'll focus on his origin." He moved to the right and exited the bullpen. "Come Major, a visit with Ducky will clear your head."

The Major slipped behind his desk, positioned the baseball bat beside that of her father's cricket bat, and then jogged after his retreating figure. Met him at the elevator just as the doors slithered open.

"Special Agent Gibbs."

The veteran glanced over his shoulder at the younger Agent who approached them.

"Yes, Agent Stiles."

"This came for you." He held out the red envelop for the older Agent to take.

"Did you see who dropped it off?"

"No, Agent Gibbs. But it was vetted before they sent it over. It's addressed as urgent."

"Gibbs." Tori called as she stopped the doors from closing.

"Thank you, Stiles." He nodded at the man before shifting his attention to the Major. "Go. There's something I need to do."

"I can come with." She offered, but he shook his head.

"Ducky's waiting. Go, I won't be long."

Tori scrutinized his countenance. Apprehension lined his posture, though he hid it with a glare asking her to let go of the door. She retracted her hand, expression furrowed as he faded from view.


	23. Rogue

**Chapter 23:** **ROGUE**

An hour later, the Dodge came to an abrupt stop. Gibbs swung the door open, climbed out and scoured the familiar setting.

The letter had produced a time and place – Special Agent Caitlin Todd's grave.

He should've known the sewer was a shrewd remembrance utilized by the kingpin. Plus, the request had already directed him towards long forgotten memories.

He lost Kate a long time ago and Ziva two years ago. She was the Mossad Agent who had avenged Kate's death by killing her half-brother Ari. She was the one who had forsaken her nation for America. His adopted daughter along with his first female trainee – both gone.

In the present circumstances, the kingpin was forcing him to confront his grief, failures and shortcomings. Where he'd misjudged his opponents, where he had made mistakes and where he had added more Agents to his team only to lose them.

Tori was no exception. He'd seen her potential, allowed himself to be dragged into a fight that wasn't his.

Vance tempted him. She confronted him. His nightmare had informed him. Abandon the Major and take him on alone. One simple rule. If he obeyed, nobody got hurt. So simplistic, no strings attached and yet his gut warned he should've left well enough alone. Called in the cavalry and let them deal with this summoning.

But he hadn't. He'd come alone.

He would face this man head on and kill him. No small talk. No explanations, taunting, or riddles. Two bullets to the heart, then freedom. Life returns to normal, Tori gets the chance to enjoy a carefree life. No more looking over her shoulder. It would be peace for everyone. He would go back to solving cases his way and continue building in his basement. Normal.

Gibbs chuckled at the sentiments. He was getting soft in his old age. Making predictions that could easily shatter into a million pieces.

He walked up the hill. Stopped and gazed over the expanse of the cemetery. Last time he was here, he'd been late to Kate's funeral and now he was early.

The place was quiet, no one bringing flowers to their deceased friends and family. He should've though, brought flowers along. Instead, all these years he had stayed away. The guilt too much for him to confront.

So he was an oldfashioned man, he had buried them deep in his heart to keep as a reminder. It fuelled his resolve, gave him reason to keep on fighting. Made him who he was to lead his team to victory and to take care of those who couldn't stand up for themselves.

He descended the hill; eyes fixed on the little knoll Kate was buried at. Seized his pistol and let it dangle at his side. Even now, vigilance was key. It might be in the open, but a neutral battlefield forewarned, gave estimation of the enemy and gave a soldier time to turn tail and run.

That was not an option for him.

Whatever the kingpin had in mind, he just walked into his trap and notified him he wasn't intimidated. Two could play this game.

" _This is the conclusion, Tori. Your weakness is mine."_

Gibbs froze, the thought like a flickering star in his mind. Then it all made sense.

Danny was murdered because he refused to play ball. He took his life for the very reason he, Jethro Gibbs stood in this cemetery. He was Tori's weak point. The only way the ghost kingpin could force her to cooperate. Meet her face to face. Danny protected her cover, so he'd sent the waiter in his stead to serve as his lookout and get the info he needed.

Even if the kingpin had identified them at NCIS Yuma, he didn't know who she was. For Teddy – they'd given the perfect show and by doing so, it was determined that Jethro Gibbs was the next target.

He poised his gun, retreated towards where the Dodge stood and then the familiar sound of a high-powered rifle echoed in the valley. Its brass sliced the air, moved past him and hit the tree to his left.

Gibbs crouched on instinct and spun in the vehicle's direction only to hear another bullet speed its way towards him. The rifle crackled in the aftermath as its venomous slug penetrated the grass before him.

He knew the man taunted him. Merely to demonstrate the authority he held as a sniper. He had power, whereas the veteran bobbed about like a lonely reed, completely at his mercy.

Gibbs gathered a deep breath, set his eyes on the Dodge and ran. Two more bullets slivered past him but he kept going until he reached his destination. Upon arrival, the passenger's side windows front and back shattered, after that a third shot skimmed over the top. He skulked to the engine block placing more metal between him and the shooter. Even so, being pinned down and not having the liberty of returning fire, boiled in his veins.

If he had a rifle, things would be different.

If the distance were shorter, he could aim and fire without fault.

If he had backup, many would achieve more than what a lone rider could. And that was exactly what the deadeye wanted – a solitary target to goad like one did a goat.

Gibbs slid down to his rump. Glared at the tar as another few peppered the other side. Ears attuned, he listened to the seconds passing between each bullet. Calculated how long it would take to change the magazine for a new one. Lifted his chin to gaze at the area and mind mapped possible escape routes via the gravestones. Then thought about the purpose of this long-range match. Sooner or later, the authorities would come. Someone must've reported it already, making this turkey shooting inevitable.

Unless.

The only way to subdue him was to pin him, allowing a small group to encircle the location. But did the kingpin have the means and method to do so?

No, this was face time.

The veteran peeked over the hood, scoured the distance for signs of a scope, then pushed off to the left down the road. Bullets slithered past him, missing by fractions of centimetres as he kept up the pace and headed for the trees.

 _C'mon! C'mon!_ He urged himself.

Something nicked his shoulder. Sharp pain trembled down his arm, then a hard object knocked him square on the same shoulder. The momentum threw him off balance, though regained it swift enough to shoot in its direction. Another one propelled through the air, but this time he saw it coming, along with the shooter.

Both stopped at a respective distance from one another. Gibbs out in the open, whereas the kingpin stood half hidden behind a tree, a M27 Rifle dangling in his left hand.

Somehow, he'd moved sideways along with him bridging the gap in record time. Presently they were at a deadlock and Gibbs finally within grasp of their ghost.

"Agent Gibbs." He chortled as he held the veteran's gaze. "The man of the hour. I gotta say, smart SOB charging like a bull. But hey, even those can be tamed." A gradual mischievous smirk twisted his lips before he concluded. "Where's my manners. I am Tori Hatcher, please to meet you."


	24. Truth to Lie

**Chapter 24:** **TRUTH TO LIE**

" _I am Tori Hatcher."_

Like a rock penetrating the surface of a mirror-less pond, the declaration sunk down deep and repeated itself 'till they made sense. The veteran raised his pistol. Advanced forward. Pulled the trigger.

One, two, three, four – they peppered the tree one after the other, until he came about and ripped the butt end of the weapon at the kingpin's forehead. Lifting the rifle as defence, he deflected the blow but not the sudden thrust. He felt the man's shoulder shove him back, counteracted and then the force dissipated as planned.

Gibbs fell to one knee, clenched the shoulder nicked before and felt his energy drain like a torrent from his body. Every muscle folded in on themselves. Tired and exhausted, they collapsed.

Determination as if a weight at the bottom of the ocean, he struggled to shield the oncoming object. Once, twice it collided with his stomach, stopped when he keeled over but the man caught him on the way down. Leaned towards him, lips twisted in malicious satire.

Gibbs' lungs gasped for air. Stomach coursed with aching pain. Limbs frozen, refusing to vend off the attacker.

"A mustang altered into a rag doll, you're at my mercy." Laughter spilled from his lips. "She's symbolic, because I'm symbolic. Everything we do has a reason, a motive, a purpose, an intent and now you're part of our show. Let's hope you live a little while longer to see the bitter ending."

A beat followed, the man revelling in the veteran's resolve to fight back, and yet every time he struggled the less he could.

"I'm the one she couldn't reform, Agent Gibbs. The one she couldn't fully crack to find what's beyond the surface. Instead, she took my rank, my name and turned her former C.O. into a personal study. A vendetta initiated by the very people who made us."

He let go and observed how the neurotoxin slinked its claws into his nervous system. Gibbs stared disgruntled, writhing against the contractions slivering down his frame. He fell over against the tree all the while keeping his gaze on the kingpin.

"Once upon a time there were six soldiers, all from torn homes and battle scarred neighbourhoods. Loyal and dedicated in ridding the world of the scum that threatened our society. Decorated, lethal and special they did their part, until one little Green Beret discovered the truth behind the lie. Five were trained to slaughter, one trained to rescue, but what could she do? Leslie Higginson was powerless, weak, soft and humane. She shattered the unit, scattered their efficiency and exposed ruthlessness beyond that of America's renowned military mandate. Dishonoured, they scavenged like a pack of wild dogs, while she climbed the ladder of success. Colonel, I hear she made recently. While I, Major Tori Hatcher, utilized my training in a more _delicate_ fashion. Devouring identity after identity, I built an empire, whereas little ol' Leslie straggled behind. Desperate to tear it down with worn out views."

The veteran's eyes bulged as the man stepped forward, bent down beside him and whispered instructions in his ear. Afterward, his voice changed.

"Leslie and I, we were destined to be opponents in the ancient arena. Gladiators in mind, soul and body. Light and day; lion and wolf; blood and war. I'm a necessary evil, whilst she's the pure dove destined to bring peace to my chaotic world."

He paused, gathered a deep breath as he soaked in the symbolism. He took it to heart, narrowed his eyes and snarled.

"I want her, so badly Gibbs. I need her for the finale."

Finished, he retracted and gazed at him.

A whole new persona slipped into place before Gibbs' eyes. It's then when he realized through the haze why the kingpin stayed hidden for this long. Now he understood Tori's contrast between compassion and malice.

This man was contorted, twisted up in a world covered in layers of thick darkness. He lived there, changed like a chameleon. Camouflaged like a leopard, he operated amidst his prey, luring them with false expectations only to tear them down. Since that was what life had done to him, he merely counteracted.

"A lone rider such as yourself should understand the necessity of survival. Life and death is so much clearer when you're alone. I can see it now. I can feel it coursing through my veins. More control, more power. The strength there is in resolve, it's exhilarating."

A piece of paper swayed down, landed at his feet.

"Nevertheless, this time you have the life of another to consider."

He turned his back to him, side glanced at the gravestones climbing the hill to the left.

"End it before I do Special Agent Gibbs. Punish, shield, lure – those are the guidelines. With one simple rule: together or none at all."

* * *

The bullpen was absent of its regular fixture as she approached after having visited Ducky.

"Where's Agent Gibbs?"

The team gazed at her in tandem, each bearing unique scowls.

"We thought he was with you." Bishop replied.

She ignored the answer, headed straight for Gibbs' desk and opened his drawer. McGee stood from his chair wanting to rebuke her when she looked up at him.

"Service weapon and badge are gone. You didn't notice him, at all?"

"Kinda busy." Nick jabbed. "He was with you."

"No, he wasn't. An Agent gave him an envelope and then he left. Seemed like urgent business."

"Gibbs only does urgent on his own when its personal." Tim specified as he sat down. "Which means, he's at it again. I'll track his phone. Bishop . . ."

Ellie gazed at her. "Who was the Agent who delivered the note?"

"Agent Stiles." She side glanced to Torres. "Your senior field Agent is not gonna pinpoint his location. You should call Metro, ask for recent disturbances – mostly shootouts."

"Why?"

"His phone is off." Tim declared a tad worried.

"That's why." She explained with a raised finger in McGee's direction.

"Agent Stiles confirmed he received the envelope. There was no return address, but it was cleared this morning."

"Gibbs got it ninety minutes ago." She walked for the elevator, though Torres intercepted her.

"I don't think so."

"Get out –"

"First of all you've no location, unless you know something that we don't."

"Second of all he left us here for a reason. You especially." Bishop announced from her desk.

"Third of all." Tim stood and joined Torres where he blocked her way. "He knows the info is here to support him out in the field. Just like he depends on us to find the breakthrough.

"You're not least at all worried?" She looked between each one before gazing at Tim. "You are, though you're hiding it very well." He scowled. She smirked at the accurate deduction, then cautioned. "You should check with Metro P.D about those disturbances Agent McGee."

The senior Agent stared at her, in particular her eyes and noted the truth behind those words. She was scared, afraid for Gibbs' safety. They needed to follow the instruction, but why would she suggest disturbances caused by weapons?

He set off at the revelation, Nick and Ellie scowling as he reached for the landline on his desk.

"BOLO guys." He announced. "Do what the Major said."

Nick marked the slight grin twisting her lips before he nudged her back towards the center of the bullpen.

"I'm watching you."

She threw her hands up in defeat and strolled for the veteran's desk. Pulled on his chair, then sat down, crossed her arms and waited as the Agents got to work.

Ten minutes passed by when first sign of his whereabouts came to light.

"I recognize this." Tim declared as he shuffled through the various locations. "It's where Kate was buried."

"It's the kingpin for sure." She said. "He's taunting Gibbs."

"Sounds familiar." He retorted somewhat crestfallen, then gathered his gear. "Let's go." Thrust a finger in the Major's direction. "You stay."

"I can do more . . ."

"Stay and that's an order." Ellie and Nick said together as they fell in with McGee's stride.

"He wants you to respond." Bishop added over her shoulder.

"By using Gibbs as bait." Tim concluded as they reached the elevator.

"Unless you know something we don't." Nick pried once more. "You stay put like a good soldier."

 _You'll get there too late._ She concluded silently.

* * *

No bone in his body moved. No muscle twitched. Only his heart kept going, his lungs kept breathing, but even that felt like it was failing.

"Damn psycho left the name of the toxin behind."

He heard a voice say.

"Help me get him up." A woman urged.

"Nell?" He barely managed.

"Who's Nell?"

Firm hands lifted his arm and another hand, smaller this time, grabbed the other.

"Don't be sucha moron, Mason. It's the Medic from Yuma." Alexia scolded.

"Oh yes, of course." Dekker chuckled. "My bad. Mistaken identity there Robin Hood."

In unison, they hoisted him to his feet, shifting his weight between them and then he felt his feet drag as they lugged him forward.

"I ain't nearly as good-looking as that dude."

"You know he doesn't know." Alexia warned.

"Yeah, why remember him of all people?"

"How the heck should I know?"

"Tori." Gibbs murmured.

"We should probably hurry up. Otherwise, she'll never forgive us." Dekker said in a sombre tone.

"We were told to watch. Not to interfere."

"Interfering now."

"Exactly." Fletcher agreed with the Agent. "Our Commander ordered us to break protocol."

"Liar."

Dekker scowled at him as he opened the van's side door.

"How much did the guy tell him?" He asked while they hoisted him inside and laid him on his back.

"I don't know, but she's gonna flip once she finds out."

"Could always not tell her. Gibbs can sort it out."

"Mine."

"See?" Dekker climbed through to the driver's side. Seconds later the van burst to life. "He agrees with me."

"He's under the influence he'll never know." Alexia offered as she checked the Agent's pulse.

"Whatever. Call ahead so long." He instructed. "We're a few minutes out. That way we can keep our covers intact."

"Already on it."

"Punish, shield, lure."

"What?" Alexia felt his forehead. A fever had set in and in addition, his body trembled as it fought against the poison.

"Together or none at all."

"It's best you stay quiet Agent Gibbs."

"Six, now there's five. One's dead."

"Who's he talkin' about back there?"

Alexia inspected the older man's countenance recognizing he was in a fitful state. Even so, anger tersely flitted along with the bewilderment.

"Got a notion he's figured it out, Mason."

"Too bad he's gonna forget."

"Leslie's Tori."

Both soldiers stilled, stunned by the confession. The van veered left.

Fletcher gazed at the back of Mason's head, concerned. "That's a double negative."

"Holy Guacamole." He responded in kind.

"You still think silence is golden?"

"Life for life."

Dekker dipped his chin while he took the next turn off. "Yeah, yeah, we should stay out of this one, Alexia. We should definitely keep our distance. One death's more than enough."

She agreed whole-heartedly. Danny's murder was more than enough loss for the team. Furious, she held his chin in a gentle grip, demanding his attention. The Agent's eyes glossed over before he noticed she was staring at him.

Small teardrops rolled down her cheeks as she commanded. "You put an end to this, Gibbs. You end this for all of us."

"You make him suffer." Dekker added for good measure.

"Trust is broken." Gibbs murmured. "She's broken."

"Regardless, even a broken clock gets to be right twice a day."

"And even a wounded beast fights 'till the death."

The atmosphere stilled, Alexia glaring at the rear-view mirror. "You're a piece of work. You know that?"

Dekker smirked at her as he pulled up to the emergency section of the hospital.

"Every day of the week, sweetheart. Every freakin' day."


	25. Broken Wing

**Chapter 25:** **BROKEN WING**

" _Who are you really?"_

Her eyes glistened as the question Gibbs had asked her at the cabin came to mind.

 _Are you a friend?_ She enquired of herself while her gaze shifted towards the window. _Or are you a foe?_

The air altered, turned distant as cries of help broke through in intervals. Rapid machine gun fire resonated like firecrackers, buildings and flesh absorbing slugs as they raided the surroundings.

" _There's nothing you could've done, Captain. You followed orders."_

The fact was – in that terrifying moment she could've done something to save the village. She'd seen past the shroud of her team. Realized their intentions. Predicted their brutal nature. But instead of reporting her suspicions, she'd cowered, hid behind a Humvee and feigned shock. She was complacent, responsible in committing mass murder.

Her hands were stained with the deaths of innocent lives. And the worst part was, at Yuma she'd looked the kingpin in the eye and feigned ignorance yet again. He had been before them. And he had them and for the sake of following orders, she had to move on, allow Gibbs to learn her secret in his own way.

But he hated games, even more so lying. This she had to learn the hard way and what he did after waking would determine if he advanced forward over this hitch as if it never were. Wipe the slate clean and focus on justice no matter what he felt towards her. However, his track record with people didn't fly so well. Either he dumped the plan because of what the kingpin had said and done. Or he would accept the event as part of the job, work with her and say goodbye at the end.

The loyalty built had crumbled. Trust they had forged, now it was ruined. Or was it?

She marked the wind shuffle the branches of the tree outside before she gazed over at the sleeping Agent.

The heart monitor thrummed at its normal rhythm. The saline bag supplied the necessary fluids via the IV dip. Everything seemed okay, but beneath those eyelids fluttered a nightmare. Something instigated by her negligence, by her mistrust and secrecy. He deserved more than this charade. More than life was throwing at him in this moment. He deserved truth and not the constant veil she held up in pretence.

" _You were tasked to spy on your old unit and prevent further damage. Which is why Major Hatcher's your problem, Colonel. And yours alone."_

" _And all I'm asking for is a marker, General. I'm facing a cul-de-sac, and Agent Gibbs is the only person capable to break it apart. I need his help."_

 _He gazed at her, narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. "It's a personal request, something you've had in mind for quite a while. I chose to disregard it, but your persistence is presently at a point where it is dang infuriating."_

 _She shrugged. "One of the reasons you selected me. That and the powers at be decided I was the only individual capable to keep track of this problem. I have, with your permission, liberty to choose whom I see fit to conclude this matter. I have done so. I want Special Agents Gibbs to bring Major Hatcher in."_

 _General Iris rubbed at his chin as he thought meticulously over the request._

" _Like honey to a bear, Colonel Higginson. You are to appeal to his interest, and yet like a viper you are to conceal your involvement. Taint your identity. Lie, cheat, manipulate. I don't care what the hell you do, so long as the true nature of this operation stays classified."_

" _That's fine by me, Sir. Anything to close this once and for all."_

 _She didn't sound very convincing, thus he rose to his feet and joined her at the other side of his desk. His blue eyes bored hers for a moment or two before he instructed one last time._

" _Gibbs will be a diversion to get you closer to your former C.O. The perfect riddle for him to solve. Which means, you are his enemy. His guide and nothing more. What is more, thanks to Vance's involuntary cooperation and discretion, our team will provide support when I see fit, not the other way around. Don't get personally involved, that's an order and it's final, Colonel."_

'Don't get personally involved'. A rule even Gibbs struggled to follow and now she'd done the very thing her Commander said not to do. She'd let her guard down for the sake of building trust, ordered the team to interfere, and forgot the deceptive nature of the enemy. The kingpin had shattered her tower of lies by using what came naturally to him. Now everything hanged on what Gibbs decided.

"Well done, my fellow combatant. You've broken my wing and done well to expose the masquerade, just like you promised you would."

* * *

Loud thudding beat in his ears, followed by the eerie sensation of something cold slithering beneath the skin of his hand. He felt terrible, like a tornado had swept him up and plummeted his body somewhere in the wilderness and had left him there to die.

Every muscle soaked in displeasure and aching arthritis pain. It was horrible, and he wished sleep could shield him for a little while longer. But alas it was not to be and he opened his eyes to a sharp gleam. An outline of a woman filtered through the confusion, then a fierce growl spilled from his lips.

"Get out."

The person startled with the harsh command. Remained quiet as she gazed at him stunned.

The scowl which furrowed her brow was unmistakeable, but he could care less. He didn't want her there. He needed a kind, familiar face to look at without being reminded of the excruciating agony he endured at the mercy of a mass murderer.

"Go. _Now_. Get Agent McGee. And you stay out."

His demands came in curt bursts of snarled anger and she absorbed them with a humble countenance and quick obedience. Left the room without further deliberation.

He loathed the fact that she understood his suffering, even more so, the disappointment of being lied to, still. It was clear, stung and prevented proper momentum.

She was kryptonite both to him and to the kingpin. Furthermore, she was a black widow to this case and yet he couldn't help his parental instinct to take care of her. And so it was vice versa. That notion hurt the most. She had betrayed him, again and again. To what end? For what purpose? She had known the kingpin – all this time.

"Are you okay, Gibbs?" Tim asked as he stood beside his bed. "The doctor said it would take at least another three hours before you're back to normal."

"Why ask if you know the answer?"

Tim looked at him bewildered. "Ah, perhaps a courtesy."

Gibbs smirked at the safe reply. "I want you to run two names for me, McGee. Colonel Leslie Higginson and Major Tori Hatcher."

Tim scowled, particularly puzzled about the last name, but was determined to follow through on the task. The veteran marked the recognition and continued with his instructions.

"Use MTAC. Be discreet. Hack the Pentagon for all I care. I want to know everything about their past missions whether classified or not. Director Vance, he knows more than he is permitted to say. There's a reason why he teamed the two of us together. And especially after what's happened, he'll play ball. He owes me."

Gibbs swallowed against the discomfort and fatigue crawling over his frame. McGee nodded, hesitated, then stated his findings.

"I think I know what you're after." He stopped as the veteran closed his eyes fleetingly. "Nick mentioned gaps in the kingpin's timeline. So I searched for similar pauses in the other suspects' past lives."

"You found the second thread."

He nodded. "Ms Tait, Miguel and Nigel were military, but their records were sealed. Made to look as if they had falsified the info and not the military. It's something the higher ups would do to veil their Black Ops endeavours."

"They were six soldiers. With Jeandré dead, there's five left."

"Tori and the kingpin served together?"

"He was their C.O." Gibbs replied with a soft, anger-laced tone.

"Any ideas on who the fifth soldier might be?"

Gibbs frowned in frustration. Tim took that as a maybe and waited on him to initiate further conversation.

"Enough focus on the players. Concentrate on the two names. It will unfold as you go along. Assign whoever as you see fit. You have three hours."

"Yes, boss."

"Who brought me in?"

The Agent gazed at his expression, curious as to how he knew his team arrived late to the scene.

"A short African-American woman and a man that could be from Mexico. They refused to give their names to the staff at hand. Plus, they knew how to avoid the cameras."

"Don't bother, I know who they are."

"Part of the Major's team."

"That's Colonel, McGee. She's not Tori Hatcher."

Recognition flashed on his countenance. "I see. I should . . ." He thumbed over his shoulder reluctant to leave his friend and leader behind.

"Go Tim, and . . . be careful."

"We will. What about the Colonel?"

A few seconds of silence had engulfed the atmosphere before he murmured a reply. "She has her instruction. She stays where she is."

He dipped his chin in lieu of a verbal reply, turned to leave when he recalled a pertinent detail.

"Abby's on her way."

A smirk lined the veteran's lips at the prospect of the Goth scientist storming in all riled and worried.

"I'd like that, thank you."

* * *

The cafeteria was quiet and vacant. Only the whispering noises of the evening shift and serving staff buzzed in the air. Fresh coffee hung like fog as its smell and that of scrumptious muffins and scones drifted towards the corner where she sat.

Leslie placed her elbows on her knees, clasped her hands together, then looked at her boots. She was famished, the baking goodies a delightful attraction to soothe her grumbling stomach, but she ignored the need.

A sombre mood settled over her, mind quarrelling against the decisions of the last few weeks. The _what ifs_ were the strongest debate of them all. After that, came the images of where she could've changed the thread of events, rescued Danny and prevented the attack on Gibbs. Somehow, it came back to one thing. Major Hatcher had levelled the playing field between her and the veteran. Only the mission remained. The enemy their sole goal before life followed its course.

A pair of black shoes entered her view, then fingers flicked the crown of her head. Gibbs cleared his throat.

Slowly she lifted her chin and gazed at him with a neutral expression. Then she noted his countenance and a chill swept over her frame.

"You're coming with me."

"Thought as . . ."

He halted the statement with a raised finger. "Not a word, Colonel."

Leslie flinched, grimaced as she stood to her feet.

Hatcher had done more than just level the field; he'd shifted the focus to her. In the present circumstances, nothing prevented Gibbs' team from delving into their past and unravelling the red tape that kept it firm in place. Moreover, General Iris and the cooperation of NCIS' Director were naught in this instance. She was a spy alone, pinned against a bear and a wolf.

" _There once was a girl who lived an innocent life, filled with wonder and delight. Everything she did stemmed from a joyous flame nothing could snuff, and how sweet it was. That flame grew brighter and brighter until a tragic death doused its light."_

"You should get out of your past and stay in the present, Colonel. Nothing there can help you."

Gibbs opened the passenger's door for her, next walked for the driver's side.

" _She soon realized the darkness was too enticing. It consumed her joy, compassion and any honest emotion a human retained inside their soul. She'd embraced a life of blood, war, hatred and greed."_

"You're caught in a realm ruled by ghosts and memories. Decide what your endgame is before it consumes you and you regret the consequences."

Leslie stared at him over the top of the Dodge. A deep furrow ran along her brow.

 _He's coaxing me. Why? He should be lashing out. Or perhaps he knows one significant detail._

" _Leslie Higginson's just as guilty as her unit. She may have turned but she deserves dishonourable discharge and not the medal you bestowed her."_

The car doors slammed shut in tandem.

" _Valour is recognized by those who had followed the same clandestine journey. For the evidence gathered and the execution of said duty, she's a soldier worth honouring."_

 _Then why did I feel like a Judas? I betrayed my team's trust to salvage my career._

"You did a lot more than you think." Gibbs declared whilst he directed the vehicle towards the exit.

The retort repeated as if a raindrop on a tin roof for the remainder of the journey and continued until they entered his house.

He steered her towards the kitchen table, dragged a chair out for her to sit, and took hold of the one across from her. Somehow, it seemed familiar, except this time a table separated their staring contest.

"Punish, shield, lure." Gibbs recited; each word etched with a finger.

Those three fingers he balled up into a fist and slammed the table in frustration. The action reverberated in her chest, jerked her to the present.

"Those were the guidelines."

"And your instructions were the same issued to me fifteen years ago."

Gibbs canted his head. His eyes narrowed. "Is that so?"

"Don't." She shook her head, then laughter filled the kitchen. "Give me more credit, Gibbs. I can see when someone's hands are tied, when they see betrayal as the only feasible outcome. It's how the game works. It's how it always works. Betray who betrayest you, who betrayest me."

His jaw tightened, lips pursed, eyes glinted with age-old wisdom. A light flickered in his mind, then he leaned forward, grabbed her hands and gripped them firmly.

"I . . . forgive you."

She scowled at the unusual behaviour, but a thought struck and her furrowed brow relaxed at the revelation.

"You know what happened. That means Special Agent McGee completed his assigned task."

He let go, propped his arms in surrender while he leaned back. Leslie inspected his countenance with deep consideration. He lowered them, expression unreadable.

"It's okay, I understand." She stood. "I've accepted my fate. You've chosen yours. It's inevitable I get it."

Glancing between him and the front door, she further stated. "Just remember, I'm not Kate or Ziva. Neither am I your daughter."

With that, she sprinted from his presence, vanished into the darkness to the sound of a lone gunshot and then all was quiet.


	26. Drifter

**Chapter 26:** **DRIFTER**

Gibbs rushed from his house just as McGee bounded up the stairs.

"Anything?" He asked.

"No, she ran down a side street." Tim replied.

"Who went after her?" Gibbs passed him and walked down the path to the sidewalk.

"Nick did."

"I told you to stand down." He glanced over his shoulder after having scanned the neighbourhood. "We had a plan. She followed it."

"The gunshot kinda shifted the priority. She fired in our direction."

"What?"

Gibbs faced his senior field Agent and walked for the Dodge parked down the street. Glared at Bishop as he passed by and advanced with another couple of hundred meters.

"No, she didn't." He bent down. "Look, glass shards." He gazed up at McGee. "Recall Torres. They're in the wind."

* * *

Early the following morning his basement lit up in a gentle glow, as he came down stairs and headed straight for the skeletal frame. Somehow, the attraction of shedding the night's weight by sanding wood was lost. He felt powerless. The waiting was infuriating.

Leslie had vanished like predicted, like he'd wanted her to, and yet it didn't make the process any easier on him. This silence, the stillness smothered him as if smoke. It was an unusual feeling for a veteran like himself.

He'd done this many times before, though with this one the danger was fierce and unpredictable. The opponent reeked of foul play. Of trickery. He couldn't bare the guilt that came if his strategy back fired and Leslie ended up dead. Even after what happened yesterday and her secret that was laid bare, their affiliation had grown bit by bit since their first meeting.

At present, he rather disliked her tenacity. Most of all the way she tried to steer them without yielding classified info. Especially since the possibility of the kingpin being Derringer was clearer to her than to him, she had to restrain herself as per order by the DOD. Even Hatcher controlled his emotions well enough to keep his ploy intact. And in doing so, both had fooled him into believing they were who they pretended to be.

It vexed him, tore at his heart knowing he'd had the man before him all along. Leslie had known all this time and had merely allowed him to walk away. He couldn't fathom the type of operation she was running and perhaps that was the reason why she'd come to him. Why Vance had orchestrated the treaty.

Her superiors wanted something different from what she had first envisioned. Their motives had changed over the course of time. Her perspective merely didn't line up with theirs any longer and that's why she'd drawn him in. She wanted what Leroy Jethro could supply to this mission. Truth, justice and a sense of pride knowing a murderer sat behind bars, and not be a toy in the hands of the government.

Admitting, the notion peeved him more than aid the circumstances. However, after Tim had informed him about her Special Ops days, these things made sense.

No one desired to be thought of as the one in sheep's clothing. Commanded to view friends, brothers and sisters in arms execute innocent men, women and children for the sake of greed and sport. Then get away with it and justify their duty because of it.

They were deserters – discharged dishonourably then claimed as most wanted. Leslie was their bounty hunter, tasked in finding them and bringing them to justice. Not once did any of her superiors or any other federal Agency expect the kingpin's empire to gain so much ground and so furtively. Not until she called in NCIS – specifically him, to expose it for what it truly was. A shell game.

Nevertheless, to him it seemed as if he was a substitute used for her benefit. Someone she dangled as bait to disrupt Hatcher's climb and prevent him from enticing his next victim before he vanished. Which according to Torres' gap theory, would ensue in a manner of days. And according to Leslie, this challenge he'd presented was nothing new. Although this time round he'd crawled from his shell and stayed out in the open a little longer. Confidence that he was elusive enough, experienced enough, brimmed considerably. Now was the ideal opportunity for them to strike, precisely what they had done last night.

Only, he didn't expect the man to have moved so quickly and observe him obey his orders in the shadow of his Agents. Leslie had, and that provided their plan with the confidence boost it needed.

Gibbs moved over to where translucent jars dangled above the workbench and grabbed his usual jug. Next, shifted the bourbon from its hiding place, poured himself a drink, then stalled.

A small manila envelope stuck to the bottom of the shelf. The thin sheet of dust indicated it had been there for a while. He hesitated before snatching it from its place and noticed the familiar handwriting.

Squinting at the find, he shredded it open with his knife and slowly slid the letter from its hold. The date at the top marked that she'd written it the day before he'd confronted her in the interrogation room. Where she'd predicted his surprise, disarmed his fortitude and gained his loyalty. However, it appeared this was something she'd scribbled down for the sake of rationalizing her actions. He took a deep breath, exhaled it tersely and began to read.

 **YUMA, ARIZONA**

 **MIDNIGHT: HOTEL ROOM**

" _Focus, you need to focus."_

 _One misstep, one split second of doubt, was all that stood in the way of life and death for a soldier. The enemy simply didn't care if you blinked, thought about a respite or one's family. They were in it for the same reason we were – to preserve what we cared about, to safeguard what we saw as valuable and costly._

 _Yes, I had considered that those who opposed us had the same thing in common. They just chose to defend it differently._

" _Become brutal to stop the brutal. Lose your soul, your mind, your focus . . ." It doesn't mean it's not pure from the beginning._

 _Lines blur here in the unknown, thoughts like shifting sand, and at times, the worst confrontation was the severe elements. The nature of the beast the environment surrounding you, that lies in wait like a hungry lion wanting to sooth its snarling hunger. Now imagine all these factors pinned against you, and still, you need boldness and courage to make it out in one piece._

" _Whom are you really fighting?" You ask yourself._

 _There's no excuse, no pity party. Simply no reason to turn your back on the spitting bullets, cracking mortar fire and screams of agony when you're prancing forward, dodging near death experiences, and swearing yourself back into the line of fire._

 _That's war for you. It's not pretty, nor a grand parade for the opposing side, it's life._

" _It's life! That's life!" You can hear the shouts booming from their assault rifles._

" _That's not my life! Kill or be killed! For what?" Mine returned in full vigour._

 _I had left everything behind for this, and now I huddled against a boulder, bullets flying all over the place. Why surrender to the rush, the buzz, the duty of saving lives, when my own life hanged in the balance? It's not selfishness, nor pride. No, in this world a soldier's seen as a hero. Sacrifice honoured for a greater good. I knew the risk, the factor of death; still I came, stood my ground, and fought until the unit returned home alive._

 _Good people laid in beds, wounded, dead or barely hanging on by a fraught thread close to death. Gratitude enveloped my emotions, touched home, knowing I was the fortunate one._

 _Yet now, I believed I knew why those brave men and women ended up immobile and helpless. They'd lost focus, where reality had begun and where it would end. They'd allowed the battlefield to seep through their safeguards. Clear-cut boundaries whisked away by one delay in concentration, one simple lack of focus that crushed it like stone into fine dust._

 _They'd gone and built a bridge between this life and that of their own lives. Connected feeling with detachment, blood with water and cruelty with compassion. For some, killing merely took a toll, while for other; they weren't cut-out for a daytime job like this one. Who was? Was I ever?_

 _A dang good question I just never allowed myself to think about, until now . . ._

He stopped reading. Her left hand had stilled on the paper back then, the pen leaving behind a black, rounded stain. Furthermore, the entry date was incorrect. The words had been copied from a journal she'd kept years ago. So he surmised.

What followed next though, lined up with their current dilemma.

" _You see what's hidden behind a façade?" Agent Gibbs asked intrigued. "From the onset?"_

" _Ah, yes, more or less." I said earnestly._

" _How did you see through Miguel's guise? How did you know he was using a federal agency as a basis for terrorism? I speculated until I dug deeper and found the subterfuge, but you've known since the beginning."_

 _How Leslie? Or why? Why do you know?_

' _Cause we served together. I know, since as a soldier your unit is closer to you than your family. You lean on, trust and rely upon the person next to you so much so, that they become a lifeline nothing and no one can compare to._

 _Tori, Miguel, Nigel, Jeandré, Joseph and Leslie. We were one or so I thought until lines intertwined to forge a new kind of murky perception._

 _Joseph was the first one to bail, but I'd held on with the sad notion that I could systematically change their perspective._

 _He was the lucky one. I realized it too late._

 _I got pulled into a cruel ploy, manipulated into thinking we were liberating people from ruthless tyrants. Only to find out we were their messengers instead._

 _It was a mess. My heart screaming against my nature of aiding those who couldn't defend themselves. I felt powerless, paralysed by the actions of my brothers and sisters I'd swore to protect with my life. I felt devastated and did the only thing I knew best._

 _The truth exposed the lie._

 _Now you know the why Agent Gibbs and I'd relayed how I could discern where the lines blurred between good and evil. I'd also shown you who were dealing with in a very unorthodox and lengthy way._

 _At present, and by some miracle, you should've gained access to a highly classified file labelled Gaius Marius. Then all of this should make sense to you, and you know and understand why I'd operated the way I have since our acquaintance._

He paused once more, evaluating her line of thought at the time of writing. At present, he got why he'd marked that expression she had tried so hard to keep from him. The one which had displayed forecasting, where she filtered through scenes in advance. Even this turn of event she had predicted, which meant his current plan was futile, null and void.

Like Hatcher, she was a drifter. Then why had she bothered including him in the first place? His eyes fell on the last few paragraphs, and he laughed at the absurdity of the analyses. But then it faded into remorse as he fully read what was written in conclusion.

" _Valour is recognized by those who had followed the same clandestine journey."_

 _My Commander had once commended. As a final act of grace, he stated something that would stay with me forever._

" _Like a lighthouse in the mist, so a broken person can discern another. What's more, if two or more are gathered together their brokenness becomes whole, and like a shield they can stand strong in the face of any adversary. But then you'll encounter those who understand that strength and use it to reinforce their malice. On the battlefield, they'll clash. Fight with purpose and intent. Die like true soldiers. Nevertheless, and yes there is a however. Good people broken down by heartache are divided into two categories. Compassion. And hatred. If you can differentiate between the two, position yourself in a category, you'll attract those with the same regard for life, or death. In you, Higginson, I have discerned life, and therefore I'll grant you mercy and an opportunity to right a wrong."_

 _Hence in you, Agent Gibbs, I had discerned life and made the decision to align my values with those of yours. And yes, it sounds exaggerated, symbolic even and yet together we've achieved more than what I could on my own. For that, I'll be forever indebted._

 _Presently, I ask that you accept my apology for the last ploy, and that when you discover this I would've veered from your course of action. (That it was done intentionally is no understatement.)_

 _I regret saying that life for life had been the plan from the beginning. I am sincerely sorry, L.J Gibbs._

 _Au Revoir,_

 _Leslie Higginson_


	27. Unchartered

**CHAPTER 27** **: UNCHARTERED**

The world around him slowed down to a crawl. The basement slivering into a dark tunnel, whilst his mind filtered through the contents of the letter. She had deserted him, his plan, and their trust, to follow her own way. Which meant Hatcher had enticed her like the guidelines foretold.

Punish, something he'd seen to forcefully. Shield, like Leslie and himself had done for each other. But in doing so, she'd pushed him away whereas he'd offered a truce. Now Hatcher was free to lure, because she had run straight into the bear's cave.

" _Together or none at all."_

Like a toy car after winding, his sphere sped up. He dug into his pants' pocket, fished out his phone and speed dialled McGee. After long tenuous seconds, the Agent responded.

"Uh, I was about to call you. Nice timing, boss."

Gibbs scowled at the odd retort, then understood the quiver in the man's voice.

"She found the tracker. Where?"

Tim hesitated somewhat, afterward confirmed his leader's assumption.

"Rock Creek Park. I lost her in the park."

Once again, something about the tone of the Agent's response bothered him.

"Are you okay, Tim?"

"Uh, yeah Gibbs. It's just – I know how important this is to you."

"The Colonel's a highly skilled soldier. She's been five steps ahead of us since the beginning."

"And yet so have you." Tim cut him short.

Gibbs shifted his gaze to the letter, wondering why McGee would reply in such a manner.

"Doesn't feel like it, Tim. Do what you can for now. I'll be there in an hour."

The line went dead. Sweat beaded his forehead as he heaved an aching sigh. Blood pooled about the wound inflicted thirty minutes before the call. From his thigh, it snaked down his leg, soaked his shoe. Then the barrel of the handgun retracted from his temple.

"Well done, Agent McGee." Hatcher extolled. "Your acting skills need work though, but you were convincing enough. Fortunately."

Tim's eyes raked the newly erected shack before he gazed up at the Major.

"You won't get away with this."

"That's where you're mistaken." He halted beside him, leaned forward, and whispered in his ear. "I already have, and soon." He stretched to his full height, turned away. "Very soon the curtain will drop, and the spectators will scatter for their ghastly thrones."

Hatcher glanced over his shoulder.

"Bureaucracy can be cruel as it is friendly. When things go fubar, those on top of their thrones merely use it as their hiding places. Take clandestine missions for instance. A General composes a strategy, sends highly trained soldiers to complete said plan. And once they fail and they're found on foreign soil, that General hides in the shadow of his position. Claims they went rogue, even supplies the necessary info to back that claim and retracts himself, observing how they're fed to the sharks."

"I read the file. There's nothing innocent about your actions. You're guilty of massacre."

The accusation hung in the air for a while before Hatcher faced him. His expression dripped with malevolence, lips pursed in aggravation.

"I never said I was innocent. It was a classic example of what transpires inside the government you vowed to serve. During that particular mission, I merely returned the favour."

He flicked his hand as if he wiped it from memory. "The deaths of a few to save thousands. A rather sick and twisted view."

"And arming mercenaries with American weapons? Another favour? Or just a means to earn bread for the dinner table?"

Hatcher laughed. Tim smirked then swallowed as the man stormed forward, halted with gun firm against his forehead.

"Fishing McGee, will only tug you deep down into seething waters. You're a fool to think I'll explain myself to a worm like you."

"I can't wait to see Gibbs kill you." He threatened in return.

Laughter rebounded off the tin walls.

"You'll be waiting a long time my friend." A beat followed, McGee drilling him with a peeved look. "Now, now, don't look at me like that. He's the reason you're here, remember. Punishment for misleading me, you pay the price. Signed, sealed and delivered. It was the agreement."

Lifting his sidearm, he lugged it at the man's head and sneered at the agonizing moan as he passed out.

"I intend to bury the lead and walk away singing soprano."

He stalked to the right, snatched the tablet and sling bag, then walked for the crooked door.

"Don't worry your little head Agent McGee. Leslie's provided support, like she always does. Always cleaning up my messes, gotta love the irony. Anywho, you'll see your lovely wife by day's end."

The door banged against metal as he stepped into the bright morning sunlight.

"Hopefully, your leader will see it as well." He grimaced. "No promises, though. I made sure his most trusted Agent's out of play. And with this tracker, Leslie is soon to follow suit."

Soft laughter slipped by his lips as he savoured those words. "Gosh, that sounds good."

* * *

 _Am I not Tori Hatcher? Or am I Leslie Higginson?_

 _Friend or foe?_

She glanced in the mirror, hands taunt around the washbasin as tears slid down her cheeks. Gathering a deep breath, she chanted the same sentences over again, then released it at the end.

" _Who are you really?"_ Gibbs asked for the umpteenth time. _"My enemy? My deserter? Or am I your guardian?"_

"Think it through, Leslie. You can't continue following the same path as Hatcher."

" _Wherein lies your identity?"_ She imagined the Agent query. _"You're stuck in a realm ruled by ghosts and memories. Choose what your endgame is before it consumes you and you regret the consequences."_

"You don't know my mind like I do, Gibbs. It has delved in a realm unfathomable. Every stone unturned and every tactic considered repetitively. This, I have to do. I have to overcome the last hurdle and swim in his unchartered waters. I . . . simply have to."

Extending a hand towards the cold-water tap, her eyes peeked at her old self.

"I am who you say I am. I claim to be a ghost to catch a ghost. Leslie Higginson and Tori Hatcher no longer exist. You are who I say you are. A deserter. A renegade. A survivor."

Water filled the bowl at a rapid pace, draining the remnants of jet-black hair. She turned away from the reflection and entered the room. Next, came to a standstill beside her boots, permitted a pleasant smile to curl her lips.

"You really thought you could bug me?"

She grabbed them, tossed them in the oblong garbage can, and carried the items to the small balcony overlooking a backstreet.

"One." A matchstick lit up in the dark. "Two." It fell in between shredded pieces of paper. "Three." Fire licked at the soles, stained the auburn leather, savoured its meal. "I disappear into dawn's first light."

* * *

" _Life for life had been the plan from the beginning."_

 _An eye for an eye; hand for a hand._

" _She's broken."_

The elevator jolted at its destination. Slipped open to the view of alarmed Agents at its threshold. Gibbs glanced their expressions, discerned the concern, and darted for MTAC.

" _She's broken."_

" _Even a broken clock gets to be right twice a day."_ Alexia stated.

" _And even a wounded beast fights 'till the end."_ Dekker pronounced.

Gibbs positioned his left eye before the scanner. The door hissed, he forced it aside and progressed down the ramp leading up to the sizeable screen.

"Anything?" He asked of the petite woman sitting at the console to the left.

"I'm afraid not Agent Gibbs. Both trackers have been disabled."

"Last known locations." He grunted behind her.

"A motel near Rock Creek Park."

"Both of them?" His brow furrowed. The woman nodded.

 _No background noises. No indication of coercion. The location slightly off and your best Agent gone . . . like Leslie and Hatcher._

"Pull up the map on the screen." He instructed with hand raised at the large plasma.

 _Where are you hiding?_

A two-dimensional display appeared along with D.C.'s roads, buildings – all he needed was a marker showing _you are here_ and _we are here_. Then all would be solved, but it wasn't that easy in real life. His eyes squinted at its dimensions, leaving no inch unobserved as they sifted through.

 _What's your plan, Leslie?_

Gibbs stiffened. _"I'm not Kate or Ziva. And neither am I your daughter."_

"Who are you then?"

A memory flashed without warning.

" _C'mon!" She yelled at him, jolting him from his musing. She snarled it again challenging him to take the bait. "Push back." She stood to her feet, his head lifting with the action. "Find the underlying cause. See past the surface, Gibbs. It's there dammit. Break through! Do what you do best. Fight!"_

 _He saw her ploy and joined her in standing, countenance firm and unrelenting as he accepted the contest._

" _That's it!" She praised. "What's bugging you? What's pecking at your brain like a pesky raven?"_

 _He gestured to her. "You, that's who, you're the spoke in the wheel."_

 _She scowled astonished. "That's it?"_

 _He took a step closer. "You're deliberate, annoying and in my way. I want my rules, my experience, and my methods to run this investigation."_

 _He took another step closer. "Without secrets and without you throwing my behaviour back at me. I deserve better."_

 _She retreated as he stepped forward with one more step. "I want you, the real you present in this investigation."_

 _Inches away, he stared down at her. She was resolute as she held his gaze with a candid expression._

 _"Not the fake, shrewd version of yourself. You Tori, not Major Hatcher. You."_

"She's been emulating the kingpin from the beginning."

" _She's symbolic, because I am symbolic. Everything we do has a reason, a motive, an intent, a purpose."_

"Why did you lead me to believe he's a twisted version of me, when you're just as contorted?"

 _No! She's his shadow – a cover to hide herself from him. So and for that reason, if you find him, you'll find her._

His phone blared in the musing. He glimpsed the ID and noted it was unknown. Even so, he responded in a gruff manner. A minute after, it shut with a snap.

"Megan, send EMTs to this location." His hand gradually pointed to a void area beside a train track on the large map.

"Yes, Agent Gibbs."

"Please advise them, it's Special Agent McGee. He needs urgent medical care."

 _You got to end this. It's dragged on for far too long. Too many unnecessary casualties._

" _End this for all of us."_ Fletcher's voice demanded.

" _End this before I do."_ Hatcher threatened.

"Where are you?" He asked the map. "No steps to retrace. You're all over the place."

" _What more is there to take from you? What more can you give?"_

 _You should keep quiet. Your mind's all over the place._

" _You've suffered loss. Fought for a family in return. You blame yourself for the deaths of those you couldn't protect. Work, so that you can divert others away from the same heartaches. Man of valor; of integrity; of purpose. That's Special Agent Gibbs. But who's Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"_

He gazed down at his shoes, mind lost in the sea of bombarding thoughts.

 _The lines have blurred into a realm teeming with confusion._

 _Who should I focus on?_

 _McGee's hurt._

 _Hatcher's gone._

 _She's gone._

" _Concern for human life, it's determined by compassion or negated by malice so thick as oil on water, it can't find daylight. Instead, it smothers the light from existence."_

The veteran shifted his gaze towards the screen once more. The winding roads distorted in his vision.

" _If you can differentiate between the two; position yourself in a category, you'll attract those with the same regard for life or death."_

"But you have shown regard, Leslie." He murmured to himself. "I have, too. But . . ." He hesitated. "Hatcher hasn't. He uses poison to weaken his opponents. He's hiding behind the identities. That means; he's not as bold as you think."

 _Then there's Danny. Timothy McGee. What about the village?_

 _No, the real question should be how he achieved mass murder._

 _In spite of that, he hides like a coward, spellbinding naïve stragglers along the way._

" _A lone rider like yourself should understand the necessity of survival."_

"I'm not alone." He contended. "She isn't. You are."

 _This debate is getting you nowhere. Focus on the task at hand. Find him; find her._

" _History depicts Gaius Marius as one who organized the Roman army into the most effective fighting machine ever seen by the world. You should be honored."_

 _He's a tactician._

The distorted vision warped, then he was back in the present as dots in contrast suddenly connected.

" _Nell?"_ His voice echoed.

" _Who's Nell?"_ Mason asked.

" _You know he doesn't know."_ Alexia chided.

" _Yeah, why remember him of all people?"_

" _Six, now there's five. One's dead."_

" _Got a notion he's figured it out, Mason."_

" _Too bad he's gonna forget."_

"Joseph's the Medic. She turned him."


	28. One Lost, Another Found

**CHAPTER 28** **: ONE LOST, ANOTHER FOUND**

 _My manpower's stretched thin and I'm caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. See Gibbs, this is what happens when secrets and bullheadedness steamrolls the truth._

His eyes connected with the bullpen upon approach. Darted left then right, and then settled on the opposite direction. Trepidation trebled over his body, snatched his breath, but he overlooked the emotion. All the same, uncertainty echoed in his voice.

"Bishop, what did you find on the unit? Expressly Joseph."

She frowned, whereas Torres came closer to negate his action.

"No." He directed his forefinger to the elevator. "Grab your gear and process the scene."

"Alone, Gibbs?"

He faced him, challenging his insolence with a raised eyebrow and cocky smirk. "Problem?"

They glared at each other for a brief moment before Nick yielded. "I guess not." He slung the backpack over his shoulder and walked away. "Too bad McGee's not here to back me up."

Gibbs glared his disapproval as he received the remark.

"Reeves!" He barked when Nick entered the elevator.

"Yeah whatever. I'll meet him there."

The doors merged. He looked at Ellie. "You deaf?"

"Uh, no." She gazed up at him, somewhat displeased. "You didn't have to brush him off. We're all . . ."

"Joseph. Got a last name? Dead or alive? Dishonoured? Answers. I'm sick of dead-ends. Give me Hatcher on a silver platter, that's how you help McGee. It's straightforward, Bishop."

"What happened to keep your focus and leave your emotions out of it?"

"Dammit Bishop." He growled. "Not the time."

"Have you spoken to McGee yet?"

She stood. He hummed in frustration.

"Asked him if he's okay? Spoke about the kingpin? What he did? What he said? For all you know, he's got a lead on our killer to help with _this_ case."

His brow furrowed as he joked. "Did everyone suddenly agree to disagree?"

"What?" Ellie inspected his expression with bewilderment. "No, we didn't Gibbs. I think you're too close to this."

"Don't." Gibbs shook his head, pointed at the laptop on her desk. "It's a lead to Hatcher and Higginson. Joseph. _Now_."

"Yes?"

Both jerked at the unexpected reply and looked at the man who had drawn near unawares.

"You called Agent Gibbs." Nell smiled in a smug manner.

"You know each other?" Bishop gazed between the two.

"You know how it is when life passes at lightning speed. Some people blur into the background, while others leave a lasting impression."

"Guess you fall in with the former."

Joseph Nell shrugged. "I try."

"Not hard enough." Gibbs slighted.

"I'll take that as a _yes_." Bishop interrupted, eyes still moving between them in scrutiny.

The men shared a wry smirk, confronting one another in their unique stoic ways.

"If a person kills for vengeance and then is killed for being a killer, how then will we find peace?"

"A proverb, that's your defence?" Gibbs chuckled.

"Nah, Mobile Suit Gundam actually. Pathetic, I know." He paused, a cheeky smile climbing ever so slightly, then added as an afterthought. "Still, Japanese anime's so dramatic, yet so informative about war and all the crap that goes along with it."

Gibbs shrugged. "Wouldn't know."

"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid." He offered as comparison.

The veteran nodded in lieu of a verbal reply, scowled when he realized what the man had actually meant by the references.

"No."

"What?" Bishop's scowl deepened; the atmosphere palpable while the men continued to stare.

"I won't allow it." The veteran objected harshly.

"What did you expect she would do after Danny's death? Lay down and allow that maniac to walk over her. It's not your style, Special Agent Gibbs."

"It's his style."

"True." Joseph agreed.

"You turn tail and run."

"Ouch, that stung." He mocked, then his expression altered into an irritated countenance. "Leslie thought mercy would remedy the situation, but she soon reached the conclusion that there's a time for everything. Mercy couldn't succeed hatred. Not then. Not now."

"Justice. That's why she came to me."

"She's blinded."

"She's confused."

"She made her decision."

"You didn't try hard enough."

"Who's the one who failed here?"

The former Medic fingered his chest enraging his anger even more.

"You dropped the anchor with the line in tow. He slipped through your fingers, Gibbs. You drowned her."

"You're the one who jumped ship. At least I'm atoning for my reckless alliance." He backed up, eyes not wavering from the man's infuriated glare. "Do what you came to do, Nell. Play the fool and get out of my building."

Laughter rattled his chest. "The part I hate about my line of work is the insults. Don't blame them; they barely get to see the practicality of our job." He shook his head, disappointed. "I expected more from you Agent Gibbs. Really, I did, but you're allowing this obsession to cloud your detective skills. Throwing accusations left and right; some veteran you are."

"Okay whoa, that's uncalled for." Bishop stated, offended on her leader's behalf. Gibbs gazed at him unfazed by the remark.

Joseph ignored her as he continued. "Instead of knocking your head against a wall, open the damn door."

"Please do."

Glowering, he recognized the man's tactic. He relaxed and snickered, though his concern still lingered. "Gotta admit, you're good."

"And you're the mysterious husband."

"How did you know?" She inquired, still slightly dumbfounded by the intense tiff.

"Danny never introduced himself." Gibbs specified. "He called the Lt. Colonel by his first name. That and his obvious concern for her safety."

Joseph smiled at the deduction, nodded his accord. "I detected your personal interest back in Yuma. I had to come in person and see for myself."

Gibbs gave him a lopsided sneer, shifted the subject. "Did you turn your back on them, Joe?" He asked, truly interested. "Did you do it this time, too?"

Remorse lined his brow while he shook his head as 'no'.

The veteran discerned it instantly as he stepped up to the soldier. "Where have you been?"

Avoiding his gaze, he heaved a sigh. "I lost track of them. And I can't get hold of her; can't find her at the designated locations either. I'm afraid." His golden brown eyes focussed on him. "I'm afraid she's gone off the reservation."

"She has." Gibbs agreed in a murmur. "Gone dark."

"It's more than that. She's lost perspective."

"Hope and patience, Joe." He corrected. "Not perception. For what it's worth, the finish line is clearer to her than to us. It's makes her dangerous yes, but for once it makes her predictable."

"Leslie doesn't make mistakes, Gibbs. Not when it comes to this mission."

He tsked. "But Hatcher did by kidnapping one of my Agents. So did Leslie when she went after him."

"Explain your train of thought." He demanded intrigued.

"They're getting sloppy and desperate. Everyone does near the end. It's a given fact, and when it happens we will find him; we find her."

"How?" He snorted. "Your famous gut?"

"Been wondering that as well." Bishop inserted. "We've got nothing."

Gibbs gazed between them. "Let's ask the people who've kept track of the pursuit from the side-lines."

"Our C.O. won't allow you the pleasure. He's kinda ticked off about the Captains' insubordination."

"He made it mine when he decided my job's worth the trouble."

"Gibbs."

Joseph stared at him for a curt while, reading his expression and body language for any signs of a bluff.

"They've interfered with your case far too long, I agree. But."

"I'm starting to hate that word." He counteracted annoyed.

"But you're going up against people that will eat you up and spit you out." The former Medic narrowed his eyes as he confessed. "You're a means to an end. A damn courtesy for Leslie's sake. They don't care what happens so long as Hatcher's empire survives this personal vendetta. Why do you think they've watched from the shadows? Why they've entertained this game for this long?"

"Wait, back up there a sec. They want his business?"

He nodded at Bishop, then looked to the veteran.

"But she doesn't." Gibbs said as he chuckled at the irony. "And she's known since initiation. Go figures."

"Who's playing who then?" Vance asked as he entered the bullpen. Dipped his chin at Joseph. "Thank you for coming, Nell."

The Director and Gibbs stared at one another until both shared a wayward smile.

"I thought my informant could shed some light on what seems to have turned into a sticky situation. To fill in the blanks the Colonel couldn't for the sake of keeping her cover intact."

"Why does this seem to make sense to everyone but me?"

"Joke all you want, Gibbs, but we need to get to them before the Pentagon does."

"No. No, first you need to own up."

Vance canted his head, narrowed his eyes while he scrutinized the Agent's eyes. "Okay, fair enough. I admit I did blindside you, and recruited them without consulting you first. Frankly, I didn't foresee things going as far as they've done and should've interfered sooner. For your sake as well as for Agent McGee's."

"Yeah, you should've."

"Even so, since you've gone to war on the foreground, I've seen to it behind the scenes. We now have everything we need to charge Hatcher legally for what he's done, and more."

Gibbs accepted the explanation with a smidgeon of salt. For the mere reason, that at the beginning of this debacle, the man had asked him to trust him. Bluntly, it would've cut the BS in half. However, in order to secure a pack of wolves in a net, the same stealth and cunningness was required.

And since the worry glinting in Vance's eyes appeared to supersede any type of squabbling, they had to sort out their differences at a later stage.

"I think we're done entertaining these spies, Leon. Give me a target to shoot at."

"You've got a lead on my wife?" Joseph asked, baffled by the subtle exchange that had taken place between the men.

"I might've overheard something about a deep cover agent using a flagged number."

"Do you happen to have this number, Director?" Bishop inquired slyly. "You know. For interest sake."

He moved towards her desk whilst she sat down and gave her a note.

"How long ago?" Gibbs asked as he grabbed his service weapon.

Vance gazed at him. "Fifteen minutes."

"Tidal Basin." She pronounced. "Then again at the George Mason Memorial."

"Let's go." He said to Joseph.

"Be careful, Gibbs." Vance added. "You don't know what you're walking in to."

"Now why does that sound familiar, Director." He commented over his shoulder.

Vance trailed them with his eyes while they walked away, then looked at Bishop. "He's not going to let this go, is he?"

"I don't think so Director. And believe me; everyone can't wait for this to be over."

"Uh-huh, you can say that again."


	29. Interception

**CHAPTER 29** **: INTERCEPTION**

Like a greyhound, her heart raced against her chest. Tourists zipped on by. Her bruised rib stung with wrenching pain. Hatcher screamed in the backdrop. The palpable atmosphere smothered her mind, wrung thoughts like water from a towel as she ran at a frantic pace.

People in the swarming crowd raised hands after her retreating figure. Some gazed with perplexed expressions. Others held a hand to their lips in stunned silence. Though, none of these factors contributed to the sprint, but rather elicited a confined sensation that clung on for dear life.

She hurdled over a piece of luggage, touched earth when clawing hands grasped her shoulders and clamped down. The weight of a muscle-toned body propelled her down. Her hands and elbows scraped against the pavement, knees absorbed blows of solid concrete, whereas her head received a ricocheted knock.

The world spun for a moment before it became clear. Suddenly, she scratched at the hard surface, desperate to get away, but Hatcher grabbed her ankles and pulled with all his might.

A loud call penetrated the air as agony tore at her body. She kicked free, thrust a foot at his forehead and heard a frustrated growl as it connected with his face in a loud thwack. He released her, and she scampered to her feet, reinforced the previous kick with another two to his ribcage. Afterward, retracted her right hand and lugged it at his jaw.

Hatcher's top lip split with the punch. Blood flowed from the gap.

Wiping at it, he sneered smugly, then pushed off like a frenzied beast. Leslie defended against the oncoming charge with a quick sidestep, seized her sidearm and prepared to fire, but he evaded the gunshot. Swift, he retaliated with an uppercut, which she deflected only to be caught around the neck. Like a snake, his forearm squeezed her throat. Her breath came through shallow, dissipated with each second. The weapon clunked to the ground. Leslie struggled against the hold, frantic to escape, but the effort only helped the process along. After a tedious moment, light dwindled like a flickering candle's flame before the world gradually darkened.

"NCIS! Federal Agent."

The snarling shout sounded distant in her ears.

"Get out of the way!"

"A step closer Gibbs and snap." Hatcher threatened.

"You get your filthy hands off her." Joseph demanded.

The Major laughed as he released her limp form, retrieved his pistol and fired. Sharp gunshots resonated in procession. Figures scattered with the onslaught save for two who cried out as they fell to the ground.

"So this is how it works." Hatcher began as he knelt beside her prone body and positioned the gun against her bruised throat.

"Either you take care of the wounded like the Samaritans you are. Or I take care of her."

"And if we comply, you walk away with Leslie as your hostage." Joseph clarified.

"See, if people were as thoughtful as you, more needless deaths would be thwarted."

"Then there's the part where America doesn't negotiate with terrorists." Gibbs stated.

"Oh yeah, that's true. Forgot the tad detail. But need I remind you, you've got two innocent civilians staining the paving here and a spy unconscious, perhaps even in a coma." He shrugged. "What can I say? Sometimes I get carried away."

"Enough!" The Medic yelled.

"Not even there, Joey. Add more oomph to it. More spirit, too. And hey, look." He raised a secondary pistol and levelled it at the crowd that had surrounded them. "Who should I shoot first? Little ol' granny there. Maybe the dude with the mammoth biceps." He narrowed his eyes at the man who retreated at the observation. "Dang, those took some work. Dontcha think?"

"That's enough!" Gibbs demanded.

"Bravo." Hatcher extolled. "You see, Joey. That's how you do it. And yes we should get back to business. Choices; choices. A life –" He paused as he marked the pained expression on the Medic's face, then smiled, thrilled with the outcome. "For three lives. What's it gonna be? I should warn you; my trigger fingers are cramping up. Tick-tock boys."

Gibbs glanced to his left and noticed the tremble in Joseph's posture, after that the stain on his jacket. Grimacing, he gazed at the Major.

"Two lives for three." He offered while lowering the gun. "We got a deal?"

"Gibbs." The Medic protested.

"That's the offer, Hatcher. Me, her, you. Game over."

"I like the sound of that, Agent Gibbs. Really cool. We can finish what she started."

"You know what surrendering to him involves, Gibbs. He's a lying bastard."

Joseph said while the veteran kicked the pistol away and propped his hands for all to see.

"Shut up, buddy." Hatcher scolded politely. "No one gets hurts if he lets go. He knows the stakes. He double rolled."

"He gets to call for backup first." Gibbs settled. "Then we can leave."

"Look around you, Special Agent. These spectators got it covered. Quit stalling, grab her and let's go."

The veteran dipped his chin at Joseph, signalling he should trust him and yield for now.

"C'mon old man." Hatcher interrupted their exchange. "Try any funny business. Bam, through your heart. Bam, to her heart. Bam, another bullet through his leg. They watch me disappear. Kapeesh?"

 _Bang, you are dead. Another scumbag off the street. I can live with that._ Gibbs walked forward, hands still propped as he approached them.

Meanwhile, Tori smirked at the Medic. "Play the hero. They play the harp. Leave the gutsy work to the professionals. It's what you're good at."

Kneeling down, Gibbs seized her arm whilst watching as the Major held the gun on him. Together they hoisted her, then he felt the object jab him in the side.

"Walk, life gets considerably easier for you. Stop, life turns red, blocks out the sun and you don't get to see the finish. Obey, like I advised you to, she lives to hear the ending."

Reluctant and aggravated, the veteran placed one foot in front of the other, observed the crowd for a split second before walking in tune with the man's advance. Behind them, he heard Joseph collapse to the ground and weep. The echoes of scrambling feet followed suit as brave men and women came to his rescue, but none dared assist them. In lieu, they had faded into the lunch throng and tourists, who'd decided the Tidal Basin and its accompanying memorials were worth the trouble on a winter's day.

"Sooner than later, decisions catch up Hatcher. Today is certainly one of those days."

"And I said I would receive it gladly just as long as I got my piece to the pie."

"They don't want a beat soldier like you. Your empire is all they're after."

"Everything comes at a price. Even your loyalty."

"Don't think I'm doing this willingly because you bestowed me an opportunity. You could've just as easily killed her as I could've you. Unlike you, I have the safety of others to consider."

"Logically, it's the nature of the beast. You have to do what's right for the right reasons. I do whatever is necessary to survive. I've accepted my fate; you've chosen yours. It's inevitable, I get it."

A scowl lined his brow as he glanced at the Major. Those had been Leslie's exact words before she disappeared on him. He inspected her inert facial features.

" _Who's playing who then?"_ Vance asked.

"Who made a deal with who?"

Hatcher laughed and pulled them to the right towards a vacant pickup truck.

"That's the glitch about digging. Once you start, you can't seem to put an end to it. The deeper you go the more intrigued you get the more chances there are for disenchantments. When it's decision time; whether you want to accept the result for what it really is or not, you hate the fact that you got involved in the first place."

Gibbs glared at him as he manoeuvred away, gestured his gun to the passenger's side. Ostensibly, he was to help Leslie into the truck unaided. He heaved a sigh.

"I sympathise, but you should've never invited her into your building, bucko. That was your primary mistake."

"Yeah, and what's the second?"

"Agreeing to carry the weight of our sins on your shoulders."

He waved the gun at him to proceed. While doing so, the veteran considered the reply and had to agree. If he'd stayed away, none of this would've been his responsibility. Nevertheless, he had done so for the sake of doing the right thing, and only because he dug deep and refused to let go until the case was completed. That was his nature, and it was exploited for their benefit.

They climbed in together. With Leslie wedged between them and slightly slumped against the Agent's shoulder, Hatcher inserted the key into the ignition and turned it.

"She had one simple task and one alone, Gibbs. To show herself to me. It's not my fault she deceived you and integrated you into this game. Granting, it amped the pursuit, but it also revealed the one obvious point. Eventually, everything must find a closure."

"Now that you've taken us off the board, what's your endgame?"

"Not what you think."

"It's a matter of what the remainder of the players will do."

"Want, need, desire – they've evaporated in the wind. This is . . ." He sighed. "It's between me and her."

"Cliché."

"An ultimatum."

"A choice."

"It was never mine to make. Happens when you've chosen the character of an outcast."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "The final play?"

Hatcher snickered smugly. "Will be determined, soon."


	30. Ensnared

**CHAPTER 30** **: ENSNARED**

" _Leslie Higginson's powerless, weak, soft and humane."_

 _You missed it, Hatcher._

" _To the eye, there's no difference. Same color, same print and so forth, but when you open them . . ." She did so with both folders. ". . . there's a clear variance."_

" _Information on paper is two-dimensional. Once you connect with the individual in person, his or her personality, character, behaviour, etc. becomes third dimensional. Information turns factual. Lies and truths are clear as day."_

" _Behind each mask a person displays "there's a reason why I behave the way I do" or "it's my background that I react". It's done out of self-preservation, defending their true selves from the outside world. They're frightened their unique qualities will be shunted. Like in the animal kingdom, the strong survive and the weak get cast aside, in such manner, the introverts are labeled as antisocial, and the extroverts as eccentric and people pleasers."_

" _As you guessed, except for my career and hometown, everything else is based upon the truth. My attributes, the notes from superiors – all true. Our talk at the cabin – that was all me as well."_

" _You relayed a sixteen year military background. You're still missing three years."_

" _All I can say is intelligence, the rest you'd have to piece together for yourself."_

" _Not good enough."_

" _The cover was provided to me by your Director and by those I'm not at liberty to disclose. It's all I can give you, Gibbs."_

" _You know, Vance was right about you. You're so focused on the small frame; it makes you blind. You forget the bigger picture."_

" _What are you insinuating? That I lack persistence?"_

" _No, you've lost perspective. One barrier broken, you shatter as a whole instead."_

" _Seeing that you're such an expert, what do you suggest I do?"_

" _You fight!" He exclaimed. "Like there's no tomorrow, to get it back and carry on until it ends."_

" _And what if I can't see that finish line any longer? What if I'm incapable of persisting? 'Cause it seems he's barely begun."_

" _Screw his goal line, focus on our objective. You have it in you to see this through to the finale. And you're not alone."_

" _Then tell me what I should do. Help me."_

 _We made an agreement: to work together no matter the cost. We did – we got to Hatcher._

" _Betray who betrayest you, who betrayest me. It's how the game works. It's how it always works. It's subterfuge, Agent Gibbs."_

 _It was the logical decision to flush him out and into the open. Besides, it was a bonus when Joseph and the Director showed their cards._

" _What did you expect she would do after Danny's death? Lay down and allow that maniac to walk over her. It's not your style, Special Agent Gibbs."_

" _Justice. That's why she came to me."_

" _She's blinded."_

" _She's confused."_

" _She made her decision."_

" _You didn't try hard enough."_

" _Who's the one who failed here? You dropped the anchor with the line in tow. He slipped through your fingers, Gibbs. You drowned her."_

 _Your allegation wasn't far off the mark, Joseph._

" _It was a mess. My heart screaming against my nature of aiding those who couldn't defend themselves. I felt powerless, paralysed by the actions of my brothers and sisters I'd swore to protect with my life. I felt devastated and did the only thing I knew best."_

"We're not so different after all, are we Leslie?"

" _If two or more are gathered together their brokenness becomes whole, and like a shield they can stand strong in the face of any adversary. But then you'll encounter those who understand that strength and use it to reinforce their malice. On the battlefield, they'll clash. Fight with purpose and intent. Die like true soldiers."_

"That's why I'm here." He gazed at her and observed how she slept peacefully. "To correct what you can't seem to do."

" _He's a tactician."_

 _So are we._

" _He's hiding behind the identities."_

 _It was after he had committed mass murder._

" _He pleads guilty as charged."_ Tim explained over the phone _. "Mentioned an example of a corrupt General who initiated an off the books mission, then claimed it was bogus. For some reason, he falsified the info signifying the soldiers went rogue. Their botched mission was Hatcher returning the favour. Higginson merely got caught in the crossfire."_

 _Doesn't make up for what they did after the fact. They still committed multiple felonies, and the brass permitted it to grow over the years._

" _They don't care what happens so long as Hatcher's empire survives this personal vendetta. Why do you think they've watched from the shadows? Why they've entertained this game for this long?"_

 _It's always been about the money!_

"Congrats Jethro, you finally found the root motive."

 _Too bad, you're justifying your actions by ignoring the increase in body count. Can't you just accept she's bad blood? That wherever she goes, misery follows. You're a fool for seeing this for what it truly ain't. Face it. You are complicit._

"Why didn't he disappear? He has motive, opportunity, why stop now?"

 _He's got a boss he has to report to. Hatcher's not as free as you thought, Gibbs._

"You shouldn't be here." Leslie professed as she got to her feet. She backed away from him and into the farthest corner. "The letter should've provoked you, deterred you from pursuing me."

"Well, he intercepted your move by kidnapping Agent McGee. I had no choice but to dig deeper."

"No, it was a trap. You should know better."

"I don't like being manipulated, especially if my Agents are dragged into it without consent."

"Just admit that he read you like an open book, Gibbs. That you fell for his gag."

"And you didn't?"

"It was orchestrated. If you had stayed away, I would have been here alone. One casualty. Not two."

"It would've been four if I hadn't surrendered because of your impulsiveness."

"What?"

"Hatcher grazed multiple bystanders while you were unconscious. He's way of controlling the situation to walk away with you as his sole hostage. Why?"

"Stop it!" She yelled at him. "You're idealizing the notion that once you're caught in the belly of the whale there's no way out."

"You are!" He growled at her.

As he rose to his feet, she circled around to the door and banged on its wrinkled wood, desperate to escape the confrontation. Her world felt like it was tearing apart stone after stone.

"Help me!" She shouted.

"Your idea's far from full proof, Leslie. You made a mistake, and I made up for it. We face this together."

"No, my plan will work. It has to work."

She faced him, leaned against the door. Gibbs quickly marked the cunning fear lacing her expression. He had to break through, now, while she lingered in this vulnerable state.

"Thanks to your job description, I've tolerated your secrecy but if you want out alive, you need to specify why we underwent this hell."

He stepped closer, while with each step a question boomed closing the gap between them at a gradual, palpable pace.

"Why is Vance involved? Why have you handled this case with care? Why is Hatcher still alive? Why should the Pentagon keep its distance? Who is the kingpin's boss?"

Her eyes flitted between the back wall and his steely gaze for a few seconds before they lingered on his hands. They were balled up into whitened fists, knuckles spotted in red.

"Where's the vulnerable spy I saw back in Yuma? The one who entrusted her secret to someone she barely knew. Where is she?"

"I'm here." She whispered whilst identifying the trend in his argument.

"Then answer the damn questions."

"The plan was to mislead you into thinking we were investigating, when we were actually demolishing Hatcher's empire. So that once we were down to the last man standing, we'd finally reach the ghost behind the chameleon."

"The business would be obsolete and in ruins for no one to use. Which means all this time someone else controlled Hatcher."

"Yes, the evidence gathered, now provides us access to an internal investigation. We can finally land something solid against a corrupt General. But it all depends on Hatcher's cooperation. That's why I'm here."

Gibbs searched her eyes for signs of truth, then relaxed his hands when he detected it. Even so, he wasn't satisfied with the result. Something else needed clarifying.

"Uh-huh, you both made each other in Yuma. Then and there, he could've slipped through your fingers, but instead he decided to stick around hoping you would come after him. He shattered his own scheme on purpose not because we were closing in, but because you had made a deal with him."

She smirked at his accurate deduction, thudded against the door with her boot.

"Was Jeandré and Danny part of that arrangement?"

Leslie thudded again, urgent this time. "No, they weren't. He was cleaning ship, terminating our contract."

"I thought Danny was your friend."

"He was another loose end."

"You're callous? I think not." Gibbs reminded her.

"Danny was a message from the big boss."

"Still, your anger, frustration, grief – all of it was real. You wanted retribution."

"Of course it was!" She exclaimed. "I still desire it, with ardent passion. I can't wait to see that man suffer for what he's done."

"You can't, can you? Orders are to deliver him unharmed. That must burn in the pit of your stomach. The bitterness, rage."

"Stop interrogating me, Gibbs."

"I'll stop when you stop stonewalling me."

"I told you everything there is to know."

"No!" He thundered. She jerked with the harsh tone, recoiled when he spoke in a whisper. "No, you haven't."

Gooseflesh rippled over her forearms as the tone slinked through her thoughts. He rammed a hand beside her head. The sound of wood rang in her ear, advanced down her frame, then he drilled her with an ice-cold glare.

"Give me a bodyline punchout, Leslie."

Gibbs repeated the action, but she mirrored his expression unperturbed.

"C'mon! Afraid I'll break through your mask?"

His opposing hand joined the other in slamming the door.

"There's no one left to protect. I'm all you got."

He readied for the third blow, but she seized his hands and forced him back. Gibbs narrowed his eyes, heard a slight aggravated breath and noted the furrow on her brow.

"If you're counting on Joseph, he's not coming sweetheart."

She staggered with the news. "How-how . . . did you know?"

"Due to your recklessness, Hatcher wounded him. Come full circle, you're down to the very person you betrayed to get here."

Understanding dawned. Leslie gazed at him with a meaningful expression.

"I warned you, provoking me won't work, Agent Gibbs. It merely fuels my resolve."

"And you're still too thick to see when someone refuses to let go."

"You're changing the subject."

"I'm stating the obvious."

A frustrated groan slipped through her lips.

Gibbs chuckled at his success. "I chose to stick by your side, 'cause for some bizarre reason I don't appreciate crooked high-ranking officers who commit crimes for financial gain. You _knew_ it and you used it to your advantage."

"Seriously? Personal is what you're going for?"

He gave her a wayward smirk. "It's not why you chose me, remember."

"Don't remind me." She dismissed somewhat riled.

"It's my job." He walked forwards, halted, flicked her forehead lightly. "Get your head on straight before he walks through that door."

"Get off my case and I will." Next, she queried in a whisper. "Nice chat."

He shrugged. "Thought it went well."

"Good enough?"

"Yeah, that's more than enough. Don't go AWOL on me again."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Almost didn't."

"Had it covered."

"We should . . ." His eyes lingered on the door behind her. ". . . get back to business."

"Yeah." She thudded it with her boot a couple of times. "Not sure being honest will appeal to his nature."

Gibbs backed up. "Conflict will."

"Really?"

"Man likes a good show."

"Who doesn't."

"Keep banging, and he'll get a front row seat."

"So it's more for you than for him."

"Don't push it Blondie."

She raked a hand through her flaxen-cropped hair. "Duly noted, but it seems like he's enjoying the ruckus."

"But does the head Honcho?"

Leslie stopped, taken aback by the assumption.

Chuffed by the reaction, Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Think, Colonel. What is he waiting for?"

"He doesn't lack nerve."

"No, he wants to be free from restraint."

"Us here, draws his supervisor."

"Gives him motive."

"Opportunity."

"Means to kill him."

"Us, too."

"Not if I can help it." Gibbs canted his head, instructing her to step away.

Leslie smirked at the command, stepped to the left and observed how he advanced forward. He kicked at the door with as much strength as possible. The action reverberated through his body while he stepped back and came in for another blow. Wood rung in a dull noise as his calf muscles absorbed the impact.

"Yeah, I think this is turning out to be very embarrassing, Gibbs. It's not working."

"You may not respond to provocations." The veteran gestured at the door. "He does."

"And kicking the door will do the trick?"

"Don't be sucha cynic."

"I'm realistic and you're wasting energy."

He stopped and scowled at her. "You're probably right."

"Thank you." Leslie celebrated.

"Worth a try." He shrugged as he moved toward the back of the room.

Footfalls slapped against wood above them; became louder as he bounded down the stairs.

"So perhaps I didn't see that one coming." She declared in mock bewilderment.

The door unlocked.

"It worked, didn't it?" Gibbs mimicked with a sarcastic tone.

"Oh zing!" She griped as they observed it creak open.

"I guess someone is in need of a dire respite. The question is. Who hates who?"

"He does." She quickly supplied, jabbing her finger in Gibbs' direction.

"That was fast!" He objected exasperated. "You've been hammering on the door since you woke up. Talk about infuriating."

"Yeah and who pounced on it like a Marine when the Major wasn't quick enough?"

"Be glad I didn't use your head for a battering ram."

"Okay kids." Hatcher interfered with a raised voice, then poised his pistol. "You're cute, really, but I'm gonna have to agree to disagree. It's not working."

"See, I told you so." Leslie said as she glowered at Gibbs.

"Can't blame an old man for trying." Hatcher scoffed, enjoying the glaring contest between the two.

"What can I say." He shrugged. "Old habits die hard."

"Yippee ka yeah, Special Agent Suck Up."

Hatcher shook his head. "For the remark, I'll give you a seven out of ten."

"Oh, I get it. In cahoots with the big guy?"

"Gibbs, you're being paranoid."

The veteran stepped up to her, gave her a nasty glare as he threatened. "Care to rephrase that statement, Leslie."

"Enough!" The Major boomed. "You can sort out your daddy daughter issues when you're six feet below."

The mention hit a nerve and Gibbs reacted with a swing. Hatcher ducked, jabbed him in the side, then delivered another to his jaw. He went down to one knee laughing.

"See, what did I tell you, Leslie."

"Well, you didn't have to go this far to prove a point." She disputed, drawing the Major's attention for a curt moment.

Gibbs pushed off, tackled him around the belly and propelled him back. Leslie darted for the door, took the stairs two at a time and rounded the corner. The butt-end of a rifle came at her full-force, hit her square in the chest. She somersaulted with the impact, landed on her stomach gasping for breath. Moaning, she clawed to her knees but a boot flush with her spine held her firm in place, when afterward all went deadly silent.


	31. First Prime

**CHAPTER 31** **: FIRST PRIME**

"Leslie." Gibbs ascended the staircase; came to a hasty stop.

"Impressive, Special Agent." The stranger commended. An unnerving smile curled his lips. "It took a while, but I'm glad Tori finally met his match."

Laughter rebounded off the narrowing walls as he aimed the rifle down at her inert form.

"Now this woman – she's truly a spectacular creation. If only she knew how much grief she caused me, she would've prolonged the pursuit. But she had to go and include the feds, especially a has-been like yourself."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." The veteran replied deadpan.

A sudden deafening implosion jerked down his frame. Leslie woke up screaming in terror, clenching her right bicep as she did so. Gibbs suppressed a raging snarl as he kept his worried gaze on her.

The stranger smirked wilfully. Satire sparkled in his greenish eyes. "Rule one: speaking is forbidden unless I say otherwise. Number two: Obey and she avoids suffering. Rule three: whenever she intervenes or if you dare mislead me. Well, you got the gist of it."

" _Danny, he robbed of a lifetime, leaving his wife alone to raise their child. It's punishment for not subjugating to his rules."_

Shifting his eyes from her trembling form, the Agent inspected the man who wore a silky navy blue suit and a burgundy ring-shaped hat on his head. The stranger noted the observation, rubbed at his greyish beard and tugged at the rim of his hat.

"Howdy, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I am Lukas Brine. Major General Lukas Brine."

He scowled his retort.

"Oh, don't worry. After years of holding back, it sure is gonna be a cakewalk letting go."

The Colonel rolled onto her left side, curled into a fetal position as she breathed through the agony. After that, she calmed down and looked up at the towering figure.

"Unbelievably composed." Lukas said in wonder. "The control you elicit while under attack is every soldier's desire. Not to mention each leader's most priced attribute. I can see why Iris granted you a second crack at the military."

He looked at Gibbs. "She did well for herself in the Air Force. Her mission success rate was through the roof. Every reconnaissance rookie wanted to be her and every rebel scum wanted to eliminate her. They couldn't understand she had a six sense when it came to sniffing out rogue elements. That she had witnessed it first-hand and had trained herself to splinter personalities into coarse sand. One particular General saw this gift and took it upon himself to perfect it until she was fit for the intelligence sector. She became an exemplary spy. Altering, adapting, fracturing 'till nothing remained of the opponent she was sent to procure."

Lukas bestowed him a wicked smile before he gazed at her.

"Her work is like an exquisite, inspirational piece of artisanship nobody can resist. Delicate, intentional and cunning – magnetic, heart-breaking, and nevertheless somehow maintains its irresistibility. It's understandable why Iris selected her to analytically smash my business to smithereens."

He lifted his chin as he glimpsed the Agent bury his hands inside his pants' pockets.

"Then there is you, Leroy. I still can't fathom what you did. But she entrusted you with something so costly, it's a wonder the higher-ups allowed this nuptial investigation in the first place. Then again, your record's off the charts – she chose well. It got you to me, and yet your face shows regret."

His brow furrowed, expression revealing the empathy he experienced on his behalf.

"You're hurting inside. It's to be expected. Your journey caused bouts of terrible memories. Ones she and Hatcher brought to the surface as a means to goad you to this time and place. And with the newly relayed information, you don't know if you should detest her or love her."

"And this narrative will help your amusement. Pin me against her?"

" _He's already chosen his next substitute, Gibbs."_

" _You're merely a reserve player in their match."_ Danny's voice resonated.

 _Dammit!_

Lukas rejoiced in the veteran's defiance, aimed and fired a bullet at her foot. Cries of anguish sliced the air then cut off. Gibbs closed his eyes as the memory of Danny's same behaviour flitted in his mind's eye.

" _You don't get it, Gibbs." Danny snarled. "He used my training against me. I could see it in his eyes — he sought my death vigorously. Shit, I don't even freakin' know how I got out unscathed."_

Afterward, he opened them and searched her neutral expression before he looked at the General. He marked the look Danny had referred to back then, though in this scene a droll sneer laced his lips as he chuckled at the display.

 _Sick bastard. I can't wait to see that look upon your face when the roles are reversed._

"Testing the waters Gibbs, will only yank you deeper within its raging depths." His face snarled. "Don't ever challenge me like that again or her injuries will amplify." He relaxed.

Gibbs canted his head as more of the previous memory came to mind.

" _Every dirtbag has a way they commit the perfect crime. As an investigator, it's my duty to find out what it is, 'cause like with every fish there's a lure, every suspect has a weakness. You don't get it by surrendering to the conditions or yielding to the game they want you to participate in. No, you change it by making the playing field yours, and then you force them to follow your rules."_

" _You think it wise to lay out your plan, audibly?"_

" _I'm not playing this game, remember?"_

Leslie groaned in the backdrop. The quiver in her voice pierced through the memory slideshow for a brisk moment, then vanished as he focussed on its meaning.

 _Lukas was the one who attacked Danny that evening. He also heard our conversation and did exactly what I said I wouldn't. He made the playing field his by sending Hatcher, and now he's forcing me to follow his rules by using Leslie's life as arbitrator._

 _Not any longer._

"Steam's slivering from your ears, Agent Gibbs. Your instinctive gut connecting puzzling pieces. A means to settle this tiff between us. Or perhaps, you're considering a way to execute me; make it look like it was defensive."

Gibbs shook his head slowly while a mischievous smile twisted his lips. _Distract him._

"Nah, you're far too clever for that bullshit. You want to know where we fit into this multifaceted chess set." He tilted his head. Bit his bottom lip. "Kinda straightforward."

His other hand raised in the form of a gun, then recoiled as if it had fired. "White King." Lowered the arm to his side. "Black King. Each ruler of a realm determined by the players moving us around. Regardless, I chose my own path and shadowed potential warriors as they progressed through the Special Forces. Leslie was no exception. She was the solitary one who truly fit the vision I had for the future."

Lukas laughed at the irony, whereas the veteran's frustration reached a level higher. He detested the setting – forced to listen and watch how the man tortured them collectively and separately. It's as if he'd known precisely which one required agony and which one needed a sense of inadequacy to submit.

" _He uses people to fill his weaknesses, layering himself behind surmounts of information. Careful, deliberate and cunning. Never leaves a trace behind. Cleans his tracks like footprints in the sand. Someone always willing to fall on their sword for him."_

" _He preys on the weak. Infuses new life into their horrid circumstances by supplying them with what they desire. Takes care of them like a crime boss his cohorts. Takes it just as effortlessly. However, he decides what you should offer in return. When you should do it and how."_

On cue, Lukas intercepted his train of thought and recited a familiar dialogue.

"I've been at this for a while, Gibbs. I've come to observe what's valuable in life."

He chuckled as the veteran narrowed his eyes at him.

"Take their income; they'll find another. Take their spouse; they'll grieve the loss, and for the children's sake, will push through 'til they learn to live with the misery. Take their kids; the couple divorce or start another family whichever way they can; some never do. Take everything at once. Like a snap of the finger, they'll crash, mourn and restore their life one step at a time. Some experience the breakdown, but never recover; gradually they crumble until there's nothing left. Others follow a more direct course of action and stop living altogether."

At his feet, Leslie murmured her disapproval. Using the rifle, he positioned it against her forehead and pegged her movement. Gibbs wanted to move but curbed it by heaving a frustrated sigh.

Lukas grinned, then his expression morphed into a dark look.

"Hatcher should be thankful I asked for his allegiance Colonel Higginson. And his soul. Privileged that I had requested for so little a sacrifice. 'Cause with the snap of my finger, he could've lost _everything_."

 _Nevertheless, his targets did lose everything._ Gibbs thought _. And you gained from it as result._

"So many saplings begging for new life, how could I ignore them? I served as their source of renewed perspective and when the time came, they obeyed without protest. Hatcher was one of those privileged men. A by-product of crookedness, I offered him the same opportunity General Iris had for you. And like you, he surpassed my every expectation and gained the same flawless skillset. Everything else that came with it, was merely an additive used for my glory and my glory alone. But like all things in this life, it too must find a closure."

 _Hatcher knew to capture us was his last act before Lukas removed him from the game. Leslie was his trophy. I was supposed to be his executioner._

 _Then what are we to Lukas?_

"It's a shame you are so obedient, Agent Gibbs. I would've enjoyed making Leslie suffer a little while longer. Gosh, she deserves it for hanging on for as long as she did. Sucha tenacious and irritating bulldog."

The General knelt down, seized her chin, tightened his grip. His fingers dug into her flesh and made lesions in her skin. She held his gaze nonetheless.

"I forged an empire for you! It was perfect. It was breath-taking and you tore it down with your goody-two-shoes persona."

"Hey!" Gibbs snarled his protest, well aware he'd pushed the boundaries.

Lukas lifted the rifle and fired, missing the veteran by inches. The Agent stared unruffled, but his heart hammered in his ears.

"Oh my, that was unexpected." He smiled at the mishap. "Can you believe it? A warning for once. How fortunate."

He lowered the rifle, displeased with the intrusion.

"I still got the floor, respect it."

He released her jaw.

"Over the years, I provided her the space to grow and grow she did. All that I had accomplished was so she could become the successful warrior I knew she was destined to be. How splendid was it to know I had made her into this innovative specimen, whereas she had made me who I am today. Two peas in a pod she and I. The one can't without the other."

He gazed at her, countenance etched with sorrow as he settled the rifle on her once more.

"Masterpieces Leslie, we were meant to be masterpieces. You and I, we rose together. Now, we will fall together."

"Not if I can help it."

Gibbs propped his hands, revealed Leslie's burner phone in one hand, then gestured with the other past him and smiled malignantly.

 _Moreover, history also depicts Gaius Marius as much a hero as a villain. A beloved politician and General transformed into a bloodthirsty tyrant. You should be honoured, Major General Brine._

"NCIS!" Torres and Bishop announced together. "Put your weapon down."

 _Game Over._


	32. Sayonara

**CHAPTER 32** **: SAYONARA**

 **A MONTH LATER**

"Darn it."

"It's a good follow-through on the swing."

"Speak for yourself. It's much harder than it looks."

"Yeah. Yeah, I bet. Still. Easier in baseball."

"Hmmm."

Leslie considered the grip of the bat, in particular how her hands formed for a right-handed individual. Then swapped them around, left being at the top and right at the bottom, and prepared for the oncoming delivery like a left-handed batter would.

The red ball skimmed the outer edge of the cricket bat and knocked the net behind her.

"Ugh, missed it by that much."

"Why the switch?" Gibbs asked as he scrutinized the binary seams running along the centre of the ball.

"Queries the investigator."

"Special courtesy."

"Civility isn't fitting to the situation." She said as she collected the ball and flung it under-handed back to her husband.

"Well, okay." He conceded curtly. "I'm not here in said capacity. You should've observed it by now."

"Sticks and stones, Special Agent Gibbs. Sticks and stones."

She backed away smirking, returned to the three stumps jutting from the pitch and stood before them. Observed her V-shaped grip once more before she stepped into a comfortable side stance. With feet shoulder-width apart and knees slightly bent, she lifted the bat towards her back shoulder and visualized the trajectory of the ball as it left her husband's hand.

"Your form's wrong." Gibbs clarified when she missed for a second time. "Your lead elbow's pointing away from the bowler, which you would sense straightaway if you were batting correctly."

"Hard-headed as always, Gibbs. She won't budge."

"Don't have much choice, do I Joseph?"

"See?"

The Agent smiled amused by the exchange.

"It doesn't matter which way I do it, either limb protests with the action."

"Don't do it then." Joseph stated as he returned to his bowling position.

"He's got a point."

"If I can write left-handed then I can just as well hit the damn ball left-handed."

Joseph flung his hands up. "You're trying to teach your body to do something that took you years to perfect. You're a right-handed batter, live with it. Cancel the weekend's match."

"Got a point." Gibbs declared again.

"You're supposed to be helping." She chided over her shoulder.

"I am." He gestured down the pitch. "He's right."

"Play like you should – your right arm hurts. Bat left – your right foot hurts. In both cases, each one must lead to hit the ball."

"Lucky you're nursing a dinted side." Leslie bickered.

"Don't hear me complaining do ya?" He scoffed.

"Not cool, Joe."

"Could always watch from the side-lines."

He chuckled. "Oh believe me, that's the last thing she wants to hear, Gibbs."

"Someone's gotta say it."

She narrowed her eyes at the veteran. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"The man's right you know." Joseph declared, siding with the Agent.

"Where's an umpire when you need one?" She huffed a sigh. "I don't like it when he's right."

"A compliment?" Sceptical, he raised an eyebrow. "'Tis new."

"Not so much." Gibbs teased. "Admission of defeat is."

His face opened up into an agreeing expression. "Yeah, you're right."

"Would you stop with the rights?" Leslie reprimanded. "It's annoying."

"Well, he is. It's the reason why he came all this way."

"Only because you invited him."

"No, because you actually listen to him."

"Exaggeration."

"Fact."

"It's nice to feel wanted." Gibbs intruded wryly. "If you weren't acting like five year olds."

Joseph snickered, enjoying the annoyed look on the man's face. "I can see why you liked him for this, Lee."

"Excuse me?" Gibbs glared at them as he entered the batting cage.

"Oh, _that_ ain't good what you said." She retreated towards the bowler's end, Joseph quick to follow her lead.

"It's exactly what he'd said." The veteran emphasized, then halted at the stumps.

"What I meant to say was . . ."

"Save it."

Gibbs motioned at her to hand over the cricket bat. Frowning, she did so cautiously. He snatched it, smirked wilfully while he sent Joseph to his position, then assumed a batting stance.

"Oh snap, he's a leftie." Her husband declared surprised.

"No. No, not a leftie." Gibbs wiggled the bat. "Just experience in switching sides."

"I get the feeling we're in for a treat."

"Just bowl for crying out loud."

Riled, Leslie took position behind the stumps, observing how the veteran blocked the delivery.

"Nice." Joseph praised as he stopped the rolling ball with his foot.

"Bit rusty." Gibbs commented. "Again, Joe." Then peered over his shoulder at her. "Watch my elbows and feet." She nodded her accord.

The ball bounced a tad higher than before. Gibbs counteracted by shifting his weight onto his rear leg and swung the bat out to the side for a high defensive swing. After that, he followed-through and watched how it hit the net off to the right.

"Nice pull shot." Leslie cheered.

Joseph flung his arms up, index fingers raised in the air. "Six!"

"Nah, judging by its trajectory I'd say it's a four."

Gibbs glanced at her. "Cynic."

She shrugged flippantly. "What? I call it how I see it."

"Don't you always." Laughter rattled his chest as he shook his head.

"Not bad for a gentleman of your age." Joe commended upon approach. "Can't wait to see that right hand in action."

"Break first. Bragging later."

"Breakfast, now? It's close to dinner."

Leslie gazed annoyed. "Oh my word that's lame. Even for you, Joe."

Gibbs noticed the tension in her posture and realized why she had called for a respite.

"Break suits me fine."

The couple looked at him, her husband conceding to the idea faster than expected.

"Supply run it is. You stay put." He thumbed over his shoulder. "I shall collect the orders, no problem."

"Thanks, you're a star." Leslie said appreciative of the gesture.

He grinned as he jogged for the entrance gate. "And don't I know it."

* * *

An hour later, Gibbs and Leslie sat on the nearby pavilion watching as Joseph practiced his batting techniques. A comfortable silence settled between them for a while, which none seemed to mind. Even so, the stillness could only last for so long and according to the former Medic, the visitation had merit.

"Typically, deep cover agents go back to what's second nature, but here you are fighting to participate in a cricket match." Gibbs focussed on her. "Adding more pressure to wounds that need time to heal."

"I'm inoperable until I'm cleared for active duty." She gestured down at the batting cage. "This helps me to forget. The pain gives me reason to focus. For you, cases are constant. And when you go home at night you work in your basement. You have distractions; I have to fight for it."

"You could've come to me sooner."

She hesitated, unsure if she could interpret her thoughts accurately and then spoke nonetheless.

"I gave you hell doing what I did. I thought Rule 11 sufficed, so I walked away."

A beat followed her statement, adding more anxiety to her already budding nerves. Gibbs marked this and grinned.

"But you forgot Rule 51 – Sometimes you're wrong."

"I guess, in this case; we were both wrong."

He motioned to Joseph. "And he was right."

"Yeah, one of the reasons I married him."

He leaned back, narrowed his eyes. "We had jurisdiction, shared differing opinions and methods on leading it, but in the end we got our man. To everyone's satisfaction, the case is closed. Finito." He looked at her. "And yet you're still stuck in the past."

"Thinking is the root of most of our problems." She fiddled with her hands before she raised a forefinger. "And don't get me started with the past."

"Ya think?"

They shared a momentary chuckle. Afterward, he spoke.

"Lukas Brine had no reason doing what he did."

Leslie scowled in protest, then resentment creased her countenance.

"Not done it." He clarified. "He shot you and accused me for doing so. He used our flaws against us; compelled us to listen to his side of the story. Put it all together. The objective was to sow a seed for you to reason with, like I assume you've done since then. He may be where he belongs, but he's still in your head."

"And you're perfect?" She affronted.

He shook his head. "Used to it. Doesn't mean I don't reason the same way you do afterward. But unlike what he'd predicted, somewhere along the line someone will take his place and we would've risen above it."

"How should I rise above someone who claims to have navigated my career from the shadows? To ignore a psychopath who built an empire specifically for me to dismantle."

"A person only breaks if they allow themselves to be broken."

He lifted his hand towards Joseph, then lowered it. She followed the gesture and observed his practice for a while.

"He may have advised against your participation, but he's improving his technique to take your place. You, on the other hand, went deeper by trying to improve your left-hand so that you could stay in the game. As result, your discomfort hindered the process, whereas he's learning to adapt his play according to his injury."

She dipped her chin in accord. "Got it, yes. But I'm sensing there's more."

He smirked at the deduction. "You're caught up in the narrow frame, Lee. What's the bigger picture?"

"Learn from it; you acquire insight and experience to face the next delivery."

"And occasionally you need guidance to improve what's already there."

Agreeing, she quirked an eyebrow. "That's where you come in."

"Where the rest of the players come in." He amended. "Lukas claimed you were nothing without his power, forced you to think badly about who you are as a deep cover agent. In the process, you forgot those you inspired and helped throughout the profession. Your former team might've dropped the ball, but Joe, Major Berth and Captains Fletcher and Dekker didn't. Victims included, together we did the top brass a favour by closing the case. Good and bad, it's a result I can live with."

"Wow, gotta savour this moment." Leslie mocked. "More than a few decade's experience in a nutshell. What an honour."

Spotting the amusement on his face, she laughed.

Gibbs offered her a lopsided smile as he stood. "Uh-huh, I think that's the cue to leave."

She followed him in standing. "Remember, you're invited to this weekend's match."

He buttoned his overcoat and walked down the stairs alongside her. "I'd like that."

"Yeah, Joseph's stoked. No clue why."

Gibbs side-glanced at her and glimpsed the pokerfaced expression on her face.

"Impressive. You sure nothing gets by you?" He joked in return.

"Quite a mystery, yes." She entered the batting cage then faced him. "Thank you Gibbs, for everything."

He nodded. "No problem. Just . . . give me a heads up next time." He announced as he retreated.

" _What made you stick with her all this time?"_ Vance inquired as the Agent walked for the door.

" _I'm an excellent judge of character?"_ He offered sarcastically.

" _Hmm, you don't fool me, Gibbs. Everything you do is for a reason."_

He lifted his arms spread-eagle. _"Then you have your answer."_

" _Okay, fair enough. You didn't shoot her, so she must be worth the trouble."_

 _"Of course she is, Leon."_ He grasped the door handle. _"She's one of us now."_

" _She is still D-"_ Vance halted the thought, scrutinized his expression. _"It's classified information. How did you?"_

" _Arizona."_ Gibbs swung the door open and concluded in a wry tone of voice. _"Sayonara, Director."_

* * *

 **FIN**

* * *

Thank you to everyone who had followed the story, I appreciate the support, follows and reviews. Hope you enjoyed it, delays and all. Going to miss writing it.

I have to admit it was a unique and challenging one, unplanned but intriguing nonetheless. It forced me out of what I normally write, and allowed me to think differently about the differing characters. While in the process, I also gained a new respect for the actors and the unique creativity they bring to the show. Kudos guys, you're awesome.

Have a lovely week, month and year everyone.

Cheers, innovare


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